


Cascadia

by shutupyacunt



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Alternate History, Multi, Tar Baby is an asshole, War violence, violence between siblings
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-30
Updated: 2020-10-26
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:27:20
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 39
Words: 70,789
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23925352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shutupyacunt/pseuds/shutupyacunt
Summary: After many years of tensions and pent-up anger, one of the states takes drastic measures.  Secret alliances are revealed, and a nation changes forever.  AU with some canon.  Wartime violence in later chapters.
Comments: 3
Kudos: 15





	1. Preamble

**Author's Note:**

> There will be Danish and German conversation throughout. The tone of the story will help you understand what is being said. I don't use Google Translate, and I don't recommend it, so if you want to know the translation you can ask!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song: Leg Lock  
> Artist: Shakewell

It was a hell of a place to have a meeting, in the middle of nowhere and damn near on the very edge of the world, but Germany wouldn't change the location to save Italy's life. And he had that opinion only because it was Washington's house.

It was late spring, but the climate in Washington was on the cooler side, and there was never enough of a reason not to have the fireplace going until at least late June. Germany and England were attending a meeting with Washington and Oregon about shipping policies, and they had arrived a few days early in order to spend time with Oregon, who was England's daughter and close friends with Germany. The four of them were going to be the only attendees, but as was habitual, Germany had brought Prussia with him.

“Why did you bring him?” Oregon demanded, rolling her eyes. “To make this harder than it needs to be?”

“No,” Germany replied, evenly. He did not look up from his book, so she could not see the irritation on his face. “He knew about the meeting and asked to come.”

This clearly startled Oregon, and for a moment she merely gaped at him, unsure what to say. Germany suddenly wished she would take her stuck-up face and put it somewhere else, preferably far away from him for at least the rest of the day, but she wouldn't dream of leaving him alone even for five fucking minutes. Gods forbid if he ever even wanted to consider talking to anyone else.

It was not his Bruder whom he was irritated at; it was her. But she had no way of knowing that; despite the fact that they had known each other for so long, she was absolutely blind when it came to their relationship. She wanted to believe that there was a chance in hell that he would love her; in reality, there once had been but that ship had long since sailed.

They had been sitting here like this since dinner, for which Washington had not been present and during which Prussia got very drunk. England was outside with Washington now, smoking, and Prussia was passed out in an upstairs bedroom. Germany wished he could also let go and get hammered, but that would only make Oregon even more clingy. Usually when he spent time with her, she would hold forth on her favorite subject, whatever it happened to be at the time, until he wanted to hang himself. But his upbringing had conditioned him to be tolerant of long-winded people, so he never actually made a noose for himself. Today, at least, she was quieter than normal.

It was unusual for Oregon to not know what to say. She usually exuded an air of exasperated superiority, and couldn't go five minutes without pointing out that whatever you _thought_ that you knew was not correct and then explain _exactly_ why, but here, now, when it was just the two of them (mainly Oregon) enjoying each other, when they were simply Ludwig and Daria, they could try to forget about the stress currently upon them and focus on their friendship. Germany _had_ been interested in her during her territory days, with many of his citizens coming to settle, and as time passed they both realized that they had far too much in common to just remain distant business partners. It started out as a simple cultural exchange, and even though the world wars made it slightly awkward for a few years, she remained his friend throughout. But by the time the Great War ended, he knew that any romantic feeling he might have had was gone. There were a few reasons for this; one of them was her father's hatred for his new boss. Her father was not, unlike most of the other states, America--she and her sister, Washington, were Britain's. Rather, Oregon had been English, and Washington _had_ been Russian, but after a disastrous winter of damp, chilly death, Russia had offered her to Scotland, and she had thrived under his care for nearly two centuries. America had adopted them as a pair in the mid-nineteenth century. Oregon was quick to be gathered into the fold, impressing her new family so much that even other nations became curious and wanted to meet her.

One of those countries had been, of course, Germany. And he, along with the others, had not been disappointed. Oregon was beautiful and fairly tame, with miles upon miles of scenery from any landscape to choose from. She was level headed and practical, even if she did come across as entitled. After all, she simply couldn't _help_ it if she was more intelligent than her closest brother, California. She was smarter than nearly anyone, and would not hesitate to tell the world. Germany liked that she would consistently use passive means to effectively solve problems. And he discovered the reason for her steadfast nature in 1921 when three of his citizens got lost on their way to the beach.

They had taken the wrong turn and crossed out of Oregon. As soon as they did, they knew immediately something was different. The terrain was somehow more wild; though not unsettled it was more rugged, the trees older. Everything seemed very green, yet somehow very grey and dark. Oregon had quickly acted and calmly brought them back, and as Germany watched, a figure clad in different shades of grey faded out of the impressive trees. She did not look at him, but he nevertheless had the unsettling feeling that she did not have to look at him to be able to see him. His glimpse of her was brief, and Oregon all but forced his head to turn away, but even with that eyeblink, he could see that Oregon's younger sister was not as agreeable as she might seem. She was odd-looking, certainly, due to her red hair that looked as though she had dyed it with the lifeblood of failed settlers, and her grey eyes, which were as pale and luminous as mist. But because his own Bruder’s appearance was also quite unconventional, that wasn't the thing about her that grabbed his attention and never quite let it go.

It wasn't something that he could see with his eyes at all. Yet shrouded in grey, even on the brightest of summer days, as he gazed at her the sunlight seemed to dim, fading into muffled twilight. The normally cheerful men and women of the group now seemed gloomy and disheartened, although they were not lost and nobody had gotten hurt. He wondered how he'd been able to spend so much time with Oregon without even noticing her? He had not even seen her during the War. Before he could get around to asking her about it, Oregon's grip on his arm had tightened until he wanted to chew it off at the shoulder and run from her.

“Don't meet her eyes,” Oregon had said, quietly. “That's Washington. Don't make any sudden moves when she's around, because there's no telling how she'll react. Wait for _her_ to ask _you_ things. You don't _ever_ offer information about yourself to her, because she'll use it in all the worst ways. It's probably the only tendency she inherited from Russia. But she's really very nice,” Oregon added, and he turned to stare at her in astonishment. She was practically babbling. “Why, her people still read German newspapers, and she had a lot of sympathizers during the war. She only entered at the end because we all did. Really, she couldn't have given less of a shit about what you were doing in Europe. It was more because she was pissed about what you tried to do to Canada. Oh, dang it,” she laughed, looking mortified. “I shouldn't have said that.”

He hadn't really understood why Washington disturbed him so much, even after he had gotten to know her more, until a party they all attended together in 1992. The partnership between him and Oregon had finally been approved by the Senate, and their students could now study in each other's universities free of charge. He had brought his brother, thinking that Prussia could socialize with Washington, and he had ended up regretting it. Not only had he forgotten about the circumstances of their last encounter, that awful day in Berlin at the end of the war, but Washington had spiked the drinks with LSD and she had also swapped out the food with food containing cannabis, so everyone got high as fuck, as Washington so eloquently put it. Prussia had jumped from his fifth-story hotel room convinced that he was a bird. After they had come down from their unexpected trips, Oregon had finally come clean and admitted to the brothers that her sister was a psychopath. By that time they both already knew that and had known for years, but it was the first time anyone openly discussed it.

“We’ve always been able to get along, and I love her,” Oregon had sighed. “She's just...different. None of the others has _ever_ done what she did, back in the beginning. Oh, fuck. Listen, if I tell you guys this, please don't _ever_ mention it to her.” She squeezed her eyes shut and when she opened them she was the sister of a person who was seriously ill. “It happened way before she was a state. She was still a little one. There was a village on the southern beach, a town,” Oregon began. “Russians. They arrived in the spring and couldn't get anything they planted to take, because the soil was too sandy and they didn't understand. Ordinarily when something like this happens, we go to help them, right? Well, Katie just _watched_ them. She watched them for an entire _year_ and didn't even bother to tell any of them that there were beaches full of clams and oysters right bloody there! She let them _starve_ to death because she was curious about what it felt like! They all died,” Oregon whispered, shaking her head. “And all she had to say was, “Interesting”. _Interesting!_ What would make someone _behave_ that way?” She shuddered and rubbed her arms, which had broken out in gooseflesh despite the heat of summer. “I mean, she's always been this way and it's only a problem when other countries mistake her for our national capital, or think she's part of Canada. It's worse when one of our siblings does it. Yeah, okay, and she does a lot of drugs but she didn't have the guidance I had,” Daria insisted. “Despite all of it she's not _all_ bad. Even if it's always raining.”

Prussia had made a rude, impatient sound in his nose and turned away, but Germany caught a glimpse of sadness in his Bruder’s red eyes. They had been friends once, he and Washington, but shit went down during the war and they had been at each other's throats ever since. Prussia also knew that his Bruder was in on some secret that nobody would talk about, no matter how much beer he forced whomever was unfortunate enough to be with him to drink. 

Oregon had confessed to Germany about Cascadia, imploring him not to tell anyone, even Prussia, and against his strong familial instincts, and despite his own duplicity--or maybe _because_ of it--he had agreed to keep quiet. But each time the three of them were in the same place, it became more difficult to keep that promise, especially because of his own secrets, and when England was around it was even worse because he had no idea about the boy's existence until Washington told him herself, yet he always claimed to know everything about his children's lives. Washington had not been his, of course, but he was arrogant enough to assume that there were no secrets between himself and Oregon. And Oregon had been present at Cascadia's birth, had handed the babe to Canada herself, and had gotten her hands bloody. Washington had demanded that she not tell a soul, because not only would it endanger Cascadia, but their own lives as well. Oregon quickly broke that promise and told Germany, thinking that a shared secret would bring them closer together. And Germany had been the one to tell America, after which Washington did not speak to either Oregon or Germany for a year. This had hurt Germany, possibly more than it had hurt Oregon, because not only did it mean he wouldn't be invited to Washington's awesome Christmas party; it also damaged his relationship with not only Washington but also Canada, with whom he had entrusted a serious task. America had finally demanded that Washington let up and forgive Germany, and she had, but put on a very effective show of not especially wanting to. Germany knew they were all treading dangerous waters, because America would not have any of his states forming any bond with other nations without first obtaining permission from him; of course Washington never asked him for _any_ of that. By the time America had realized that Cascadia was there, it was too late, and the boy was under the shared protection of Canada and Denmark, two of America’s closest allies. And it took thirty _more_ years for Washington to admit whose son Cascadia was. America was left feeling very betrayed by all parties involved, but he quickly got over it when he noticed that the other states didn't even seem to realize that Cascadia was dangerous to their very existence. He was even more annoyed that nobody was allowed to talk about who was responsible. Germany hated to think how he would react to the _entire_ truth.

The other states either didn’t notice Cascadia, or they were in support of him. The distribution of support also didn't make sense--Washington didn't trust Idaho one bit. Though they had been close when they were younger, certain things that had happened as a result of America's meddling had negatively affected their relationship. He was quite possibly the only one to have zero contact with her despite sharing her entire Eastern border. There was constant tension there, but Canada managed to keep things calm. Montana and the Dakotas were both ambivalent, but New York both liked and supported Washington and Cascadia, as did Pennsylvania and California, though the latter was constantly trying to get to Washington's fresh water supply, which she had in abundance but would not part with. He had once suggested running a pipeline all the way from Los Angeles to Seattle, to which she had replied with a thinly veiled threat to cut him off from _any_ drought assistance in the future. Texas also respected Cascadia's existence and Louisiana often came to visit and to teach Cascadia Cajun French, much to Canada's distress. The rest of the states had no idea Cascadia even _existed_ until the fateful day Germany was extremely late to the final day of the meeting with England and Oregon at Washington's house.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song: Hey Joe  
> Artist:Jimi Hendrix

“We're going to have to start without him,” England decided, giving a regretful sigh. “Daria, you can fill him in when he gets here.”

Frowning deeply, Washington narrowed her eyes at England. “Why should _she_ have to do that? _You_ could do it. Or, you know, since his brother is here,” she added, barely glancing in Prussia's direction. “I hardly think it's appropriate for my sister to be the one.”

England's mouth snapped shut when Prussia beat him to a reply. “And why _shouldn't_ she? They've been friends for years. Why don't you just let _her_ decide.”

She couldn't answer him because England quickly began his PowerPoint on international maritime etiquette, so she had to settle for staring at Prussia across the table. England droned on for nearly _twenty bleeding minutes_ before the need to smoke became too much for him. And just in time, too, before Washington gave in to the urge to gnaw open her own wrists. Or cut her own throat. Jesus fucking _Christ_ , the man's voice _never_ failed to piss her off. While he was distracted with putting things away, Prussia began to snipe at her.

“You know, it's obvious that you want your sister to be as lonely and miserable as you,” he said, keeping his voice neutral to avoid attracting too much attention.

“Maybe you shouldn't run your mouth about things that you don't understand,” Washington replied, her voice deceptively calm. “But you just _can't_ , can you?”

Prussia felt a tiny flutter in his belly, the first indication that something was very wrong here. He knew she was going to be very loud and destructive--she practically _had_ to be in order to even do any damage to him. And he also knew that she was still extremely angry with him. Germany should be here by now, he thought. Where _was_ he? It wasn't that he would have to be present to see what happened, Prussia thought. He was planning on Live Streaming whatever happened after Oregon and England left the room, and he knew all relevant parties would either see it as it happened or catch it later. But where the hell was Germany? Why did he have to pick _today_ to be late? Prussia lamented to himself. But none of it mattered. He was alone in the house with Washington, who for some reason had taken it upon herself to actually try to keep Oregon from his Brüderchen, which didn't make sense at all because that had nothing to do with her. It also kept suspicious minds at ease as long as Germany and Oregon were friendly. And when they had convened for the meeting, she had leaned over to him with a deadly gleam in her eyes, the only clue that her smile might be fake, and both Oregon and England assumed that she was telling him something pleasant for a change.

“They're going to go outside so England can smoke,” she had breathed in his ear. “If you want to settle this.”

He was very proud of himself for not flinching--or melting. As she well knew, even the mere suggestion of a fight was thrilling. “If you insist,” he had replied. And he had watched with dread as the clock ticked by until before he knew it, the meeting was over, cut short because of Germany's absence and the lunch hour. He dreaded it because he didn't want to hurt her. As England and Oregon left the house, Washington and Prussia had stared each other down.

“So you're serious about getting a beatdown,” Washington murmured, sighing. “Pity.”

“It's only a pity that I won't be the one getting a beatdown,” Prussia retorted. For a moment they both paused, frowning as they tried to figure out who was more insulted, but then Prussia shook his head and snarled. “You're going to have to catch me first.”

She threw her ever-present pack of cloves down and he leapt back towards the door. But just as Prussia made it to the opposite wall, Washington appeared out of thin air with a fist aimed right at his head. Prussia was quick to dodge, and the fist went straight through the wall and up to Washington's elbow. Washington pulled away with a growl, leaving a sizable crater in her house.

"This ends here," she said, taking a step to the side. Prussia followed, knowing turning his back was out of the question. "Your fucking brother is not going to turn my sister against me."

"That is _not_ what he wants from her," Prussia said as he wrenched a pipe from the hole in her wall. Water sprayed out in three different directions, making the floor slippery. "You wouldn't understand."

"I don't plan to understand anything that goes on in that black abyss your brother calls a mind. I only care about my family."

"You're _really_ going to fight me, _and_ insult my brother, you little bastard?" Prussia held the pipe, legs braced apart as he and Washington continued to circle each other. He knew this had to be convincing, but he also knew that she really was still very angry with him. His mind was already retreating back to the Second World War when he and Washington had gotten into a major physical altercation. Distance was the key. He had been a fool last time to stand still when Washington charged him.

"I'd rather not," Washington said. Her eyes were shining with what might have been manic joy or insane hatred. Prussia couldn't really tell. He wasn't sure he even _wanted_ to know. "You know why we're doing this. Don't play fucking dumb."

"I have put up with a lot from you," Prussia said. "I have refrained from beating your skull in for mein Bruder’s sake, because he seems to care about your sister, but you are really pushing it here."

"Then let's do this, you fucking cruel bastard." Washington rushed forward, and Prussia automatically leapt to meet her head on. It seemed her fighting style was similar to America's, relying on insane strength. Of course as one of America's states, she probably wouldn't be as freakishly strong, but still. He didn't know, of course, about her sorcery skills.

Yet.

Washington drew her fist back as Prussia neared her. Then with perfect timing, Prussia dropped down to one knee just as Washington swung. He swiped the pipe out to the side, tripping the other state. The momentum from Washington's charge nearly caused Prussia to fall backwards as well, but he held fast, and Washington was sent flying into the opposite wall.

Her body left a dent in that wall.

"Is that all you've got, kleines Kind?" Prussia stood up and faced his attacker again, pipe at the ready. Distance, he reminded himself. A full-powered punch from America could do fatal damage. Washington was probably no different, and if she managed to wrap her arms around him, he might as well say auf Wiedersehen to his ribcage.

"I haven't even started yet, bastard." Washington chuckled and picked herself up off the floor. "That was foolish of me. Looks like I'll have to play this a bit smarter." She flexed her hands. "Maybe it's time to break out the real weapon.”

“What?” Prussia took a step back.

"Magic, you insolent whelp.” Then to Prussia's horror Washington rushed over to the table and promptly lifted it above her head as if it were made of foam. It was solid mahogany. Sweet Fritz, if that thing came down on his head then he was going to be feeling it for the next five years. They could take whatever beatings they got, but there were physical limitations. "Or this could work." Prussia felt all his blood drain from his face. He had always known she was stronger than she looked, but that table was heavier than two cars put together. Even so, he held his ground.

Never show the enemy your fear, he reminded himself. Just when Washington brought the table down, Prussia darted out of the way, blocking his face and head from the wreckage. A few pieces of wood clattered against him and when he lowered his hands Washington appeared right in front of him and was ready to bludgeon him with a baseball bat she seemed to have pulled out of nowhere. Dear God. Prussia blocked it with the pipe and nearly lost hold of it.

"This," Prussia snarled, "is going to be the last time you _ever_ attack me."

"Whatever you have to tell yourself," Washington growled back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Perhaps a little known fact about Washington is that it was an extremely violent place in its early days, and quite a few cities were places of ill repute. One of those cities was Aberdeen, on Grays Harbor. This city was so rough that the US military prohibited its service personnel to go there up until the 1980s.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> England and Oregon have a chat. Washington and Prussia duke it out. Scotland arrives.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song: Control  
> Artist: Sibewest

"Daria, are you quite sure you know what you're doing with Germany?” England and Oregon stood on the wraparound deck of Washington's large log home. England leaned casually against the railing, shoving his hands into the pockets of his old flight coat.

"What do you mean?" Oregon blinked. The sliding glass behind her reflected her back, showing her fingers knotting together nervously. England rolled his eyes. Even after all this time the girl still couldn't lie to him for shit.

"Don't play dumb. I saw you ogling him all afternoon."

"I was _not_ ogling!" Oregon crossed her arms. "I was glancing. There's a difference."

"It's just that...well," England said. "You and Germany have been...well, longtime friends. If he were going to be interested in you... And the war didn't help much, you know. You were very upset with him not too long ago."

"Everyone always brings that up," Oregon muttered. "No one ever remembers that when I was going through my early statehood Germany was the only one who believed that I could be a state. So many of his people came to help settle me. And he tried his best to convince you to get that stick out of your ass and let me open my trade to other nations during my time with you.”

"Yes. That's true, but Daria, it was a long time ago. You two haven't so much as held hands at the movies since the sixties,” England reminded, flatly. "And that only happened because you went to see Rosemary's Baby." Oregon's face darkened and England knew that was the wrong thing to say.

"How dare you?" Oregon’s lips turned down in a scowl. England mentally kicked himself. "Why does everyone think that we can't possibly have a romantic relationship? God--it's not just you. Even Kate doesn't think he really wants to be with me! Only she's too nice to ever say so to my face."

England had to turn away from her to keep from bursting out laughing. Of all the things one could say about Washington, one of the most obvious was definitely not that she was 'too nice'. She was able to suck the air from the room simply with a glance. And he could name a few nations who had come to regret making her angry.

"Listen, Daria, sweetling," he sighed. "I know you're dead set on getting Ludwig to finally ask you out. I would be all for it if I weren't so sure that it would be an utter disaster. You have to understand that you really don't know him as well as you think you do."

"Oh, and what's that supposed to mean?" she frowned. "Come on. I think you're just feeling guilty about giving me up and now you want to give me some fatherly advice. But it's not working. Maybe you don't know him either."

He sighed loudly. "Daria, of course I feel badly about that. But that's not why I'm telling you this. So--none of us knows anybody as well as we'd like to. Not even you know Washington as well as you think you do."

As soon as he said it, he regretted it. Oregon's eyes narrowed dangerously. "What the hell does that mean, huh?" she demanded. "I lived with her for longer than I _ever_ lived with you! That says a lot." 

England swallowed, trying to clear the lump in his throat. A few years ago, when he had discovered that Washington and Germany not only had had a brief affair but also a little one resulting from that affair, Washington had been furious with him for going behind her back to find out where the little one was. In doing so, he had found out about Cascadia, and knowing that he had a close relationship with Oregon, Washington decided to cut him off at the pass and spent a few hours convincing him to stay quiet about it. To his surprise she invited him over to her place, which was a privilege. Not even America knew where she lived. When he got there, she further surprised him by tying him to a chair. At first, he seriously thought she was going to seduce him with BDSM. 

But that would have been what he _wanted,_ and she was all about contrariness.

She proceeded to force him to choke down ungodly amounts of pot brownies until he felt like both his stomach and his brain were going to burst.

“Silly rabbit, you've already taken everything from me.” Washington had said it pleasantly, as if they were merely chatting and she was recalling a fond memory. “And I'm so sorry, but I just can't let you do this. You're meddlesome, and I won't have you convincing her to tell about Nicholas. Or telling her about Karsten." Her son with Germany was at the moment staying with Canada, but that day he had been there helping her make the brownies. "After all, we know how _persuasive_ you are.” Her teeth clenched. “If not for _you,_ I'd still be with my Da, and this wouldn't even be an issue. You fucked up my life without even _trying!_ Took me away from my only _real_ father and gave me to that infuriating self-absorbed _jackass!_ At least you didn't try to keep Daria for yourself. I'd _never_ have let you get away with that anyhow. And you're not going to get away with it _now,_ either. I do hope you understand and we can get past this. She's the only one who sees me. All the others think I'm part of Canada, or I'm that fucking douche DC.” Washington had set the freshly made brownies down with a sweet-natured smile that looked completely horrifying and very out of place on her. Her eyes, pale grey, glinted murder. “I know how you like over indulging yourself, so eat these. Eat them all, Arthur. Eat until you're satisfied. When you’ve finished these, there’s more. I’ve made plenty, _just_ for you. And when you’ve had enough, you can call Daria and tell her you've come to your senses.”

"Well." England looked down at his scuffed Doc Martens. It had taken the better part of two days to recover from those brownies. Scotland obviously made Washington insane just to spite him, though the bloody cunt denied it. "I only want what's best for you."

"Yeah, I get that, but..." Oregon sighed. "I just keep getting this feeling that nobody wants us together. Like everyone knows something that I don't. And that's not fair. If you know something about Ludwig that I should know too, you need to come clean."

"I know it's frustrating, Daria, but you need to understand something," England sighed. "I take my promises very seriously, as should you. When your sister had her little one, I seem to remember hearing that you swore to her that you wouldn't tell anybody. Yet you told Germany the first chance you got. Was that fair to your sister, Daria? Or does fairness only apply…" England trailed off when Washington and Prussia stumbled into view inside the house.

Both of them were disheveled, as if they had been fighting ever since the meeting ended. Washington's face was bruised and her nose was bleeding while Prussia bled from a gash above his right eye and his mouth was bruised and bloody. His legs were wrapped around Washington's waist as he attempted to strangle her from behind with a pipe. Washington gripped the pipe and launched him backwards over her head into the far wall. Prussia leapt back up despite the impact and tackled her.

"Okay, so I did," Daria snapped. "But this is the thing about that. The little one--Cascadia is his nephew. His brother's offspring. I knew Kate would never have forgiven me if I had told Prussia, but I thought he should know. And so I told Germany thinking that he might tell his brother. And then he would know that he had a son. It wasn't fair that she wanted to keep it from him."

"That isn't up to you, Daria," England said, frowning. "Letting out a secret like that can very well hurt more than it helps." England winced as Washington managed to toss Prussia over her shoulder and bring her bat down on the other state's side, undoubtedly cracking a few ribs. Prussia swiped out with his pipe and knocked Washington on her back. He attempted to crawl on top of the other state, and they rolled across Washington's hardwood floors trying to strangle one another.

"I just think she needs to think about other people's feelings rather than her own," Oregon said. England couldn't help the horrified look that crossed his face when Washington lifted Prussia over her head and slammed the considerably larger state down on her knee.

"God save the Queen," he whispered. Prussia's back bent awkwardly, but it was quickly remedied when he kicked Washington in the side of the head, sending the other state crumpling to the ground.

For a split second Oregon looked furious. "What, so everybody should just let her stomp all over Prussia's feelings? What if he found out some other way? What then, does she just get to walk away from having to own up to eighty years of lies?”

"That's not the point," England said. Prussia sat on Washington's chest and continuously punched her in the face until Washington caught his fist, twisting his arm so Prussia tumbled to the side. Then Washington was the one on top doing the punching. Prussia must have worn her out to the point where she couldn't focus enough to harness her dark and stormy magic.

Oregon sighed. "I don't even know what the point is anymore. Let's get something to eat. I am starving." Washington clung to Prussia's back and used his hair to slam his head into the wall. England hadn't seen a fight this intense since the War. As a matter of fact, the two of them had been the ones fighting then, as well. A hollow feeling overcame his insides. What if this caused a war between America and Germany? World War III would be upon them, and all because of a secret that should have been kept.

England snapped out of his thoughts when he felt Oregon flick his forehead. "Earth to Arthur, are you there?"

"Yes, I am!" England slapped the intruding digit away. "And we should get something, but before you say it, we're _not_ getting deep fried macaroni and cheese. I do not care how popular it is at Portland's food carts. Besides, this is Seattle. You won't find it here. That stuff will clog your heart like no tomorrow."

"Again with the heart health talk." Oregon grinned and headed towards the porch steps. Behind her, Prussia smacked Washington across the room with his pipe and straight into the television set. Now they appeared to be in some sort of pseudo sword fight with the pipe and baseball bat. "So, is Scotch Guard coming to join us?" Oregon smirked.

"Yes, actually. Of course he wants to see Kate. He said he found this supposedly 'charming' place last time he was here. Get your wallet ready. Knowing the cunt, that means it's probably a rough place, and he's going to get trashed." England was quick to follow Oregon lest she turn around and see what true menaces her sister and the brother of her potential lover were. Oregon's entire world would be turned upside down if she saw Washington suplex Prussia or Prussia beat the fuck out of "poor" and "defenseless" Washington.

Oregon prided herself on being hip and progressive, and England couldn't imagine the consequences if she found out that she had been kept in the dark all these years. Prussia currently piledriving Washington's head through the floor probably wouldn't sit well with Oregon either.

"Scotland just doesn't get that I'm not into wild pub scenes," Oregon sighed. Prussia was now on his stomach, desperately reaching for the handle of the door, while Washington held him in a brutal headlock and punched him viciously in the side of the head. England tore his gaze away from the fight and darted to Oregon's side.

"We've spent enough time chatting, let's go!" England hooked an arm around Oregon's and practically dragged her down the steps.

"Hey! You okay?" Oregon asked curiously.

"Why wouldn't I be?" England gave a strained smile as they made their way down the walkway. If the past seventy years was anything to go by, it was best to let them get it out of their systems.

"Oh! We forgot about Kate. I'm sure she'd be happy to see Scotland since they've both been super busy lately."

"No time! We just need to meet the whiskey bastard before—"

The sound of shattering glass caused Daria to whip around in time to see Prussia flying backwards through the destroyed door and down the porch steps until he was sprawled on his back in the front yard.

"Time for you to die, motherfucker!" Washington stepped through the remains of her sliding doors and launched herself at Prussia with the baseball bat raised. At the last moment, Prussia lifted his legs and kicked Washington in the chest, causing her to flip in the air and land on her back with a thud.

"You…are going…to pay," Prussia gasped as he turned over and dragged himself towards Washington.

"Not…a fucking chance, Scheißkerl." Washington got to her knees, gripped Prussia's arms and hoisted him up. "I'll…kill you." The two states attacked each other once more with renewed vigor.

"I am the Awesome Prussia, you narcissistic psychopath!" Prussia punched the other state across the jaw, panting roughly. Washington's head whipped around so fast, England was surprised it didn't pop off her neck. "You are _nothing!_ You…have a crazy Scotsman as your head of state!" Washington returned the punch into Prussia's solar plexus and sent him to the ground once more.

"Your whole fucking _country_ is psycho!" Washington, with rivers of blood trickling down her chin, was upon the downed state in a second, her hands around his throat. _"You_ are nothing but a narcissistic waste of space and fanatical _Nazis!”_

“Psychotic…narcissistic...wastes…of space and fanatical Nazis…who live in glass houses…shouldn't throw stones! At least _I_ never stood by and watched my people _starve to death_ with food _right fucking there!"_ Prussia managed to choke out before he elbowed Washington in the chin.

“And at least _I_ never shoved my _old men_ and _children_ onto the _front lines!”_

Roaring, the two of them rolled around, punching and grabbing fistfuls of hair, slamming each other's heads on the ground. The earth rumbled beneath them. However, before the fight could escalate further, England flinched at Oregon's shout.

“What the hell is going on here!?”

The warring states froze, their heads turning towards the outraged Oregon. Washington's fist stopped in mid swing, and the two combatants staggered to their feet.

 _“He_ started it,” Washington rasped, shooting Prussia a murderous look. “He can't just shut the fuck up.”

“Nein, lies,” Prussia shot back, glaring at her. “Your fucking psycho sister attacked me, and I can _prove_ it. Why don't we ask my Bruder?”

Washington spat a bloody mess at his feet. “The fuck would _he_ know? He's not here.”

Prussia’s red eyes gleamed in triumph. “Live Stream, bitch.”

“You _motherfucker!”_ With that, Washington launched herself at the German State again, slamming him into the ground. She pinned him with her knees and was just about to throttle him when he punched the side of her head with a pair of brass knuckles he had kept hidden in his jacket. Stunned, Washington rolled off and flew to her feet, finally driven to call upon her secret reserves.

Quite suddenly, the sun was gone.

Quite suddenly, the warmth of the May afternoon was no more.

“Oh, no,” Oregon whispered. “Arthur, get inside _now!”_ A sudden, strong gust of wind hissed across the lawn, tossing the branches of ancient Douglas Firs like gossamer.

As Oregon and England turned to flee, Germany's Mercedes roared into the driveway and he jumped out without even turning off the engine. Racing towards the battling duo, he flinched as huge raindrops started pelting everything. It was like being attacked with marbles. “Bruder, nein! _Stop!”_ He tried to reach out and grab his brother to escape Washington's wrath, but he suddenly found that he couldn't even move. Washington stared at him darkly.

“Stay out of this, Deutschland,” she warned. Then she snarled at Prussia. “Dein Brüderchen hat keine Ahnung, was er angefangen hat.”

“Shut up, you crazy bitch,” Prussia hissed, “and don't threaten my little brother. I know _exactly_ what I'm doing, unlike you.” They collided once more, but this time neither could get an advantage. Germany finally got moving and dragged Prussia away from Washington, hearing his brother's hoarse shouts and Washington's equally angry response. Scotland had arrived at last, having received a panicked text from Oregon, begging him to stop his daughter from killing Prussia. He waited until Germany had disappeared inside the house before taking Washington inside as well.

“Whit ur ye _daein_ ’, lass? This isnae the battlefield! Ye wants tae fight him, ye even the stakes. Whit yis _baith_ guid at?” he demanded, as England handed him a towel so he could begin to dry them both.

“Let go,” Washington snarled, but Scotland had an iron grip on her. “That son of a bitch. I'm going to kill him.”

“Aye, but _wa?”_ her father demanded. “Whit’s the lad dane tae ye?” He grunted as she continued to struggle in his arms. _“Oi!_ Ye ainae gonna barnie loch a fucking street brawler, Katie. I dinnae raise up nae thug.”

She scowled at the floor.

“Ah dinnae come haur tae watch yeh brawlin wi’ Germany's brither,” Scotland continued as she slowly unwound. With any of the other states and nations, he would normally use an English dialect, but Washington was his daughter and could understand him perfectly. “Nae _mair,_ ye unnerstaun?”

“Aye,” she breathed, finally beginning to calm as he wiped her face. When he finished he squeezed her arm, in the way that showed his enduring affection for her.

“It's a right sump oot there, innit?”

She glanced out the broken windows. Outside, the rain still fell in sheets. “I like it,” she muttered. “But I guess I'll have someone come out to fix that glass.” She looked around as England and Oregon stood in the doorway to the kitchen, both looking ill at ease. She gestured to England. “Hey, would you bring me an ice pack? Me fuckin coopon is sair. That arrogant bastard gave me a keeker.” Her words caused him pause, and he stared at her in astonishment. She had not spoken in that dialect with anyone else besides Scotland for almost a hundred and fifty years, but he knew that she did so when she was feeling particularly vulnerable, and if Scotland was with her besides. 

“Daria,” Germany stood at the end of the hall, holding a bundle of bloody rags. “We need to talk.”

This was definitely _not_ going well at all, Oregon thought, feeling miserable. Washington just glared at her as she joined Germany in the living room, which was still in disarray. Oregon saw the holes in the floor and cringed upon noticing the heavily damaged walls. The television was shattered where Washington had slammed into it, and the mahogany table was in pieces. “Mein Bruder will help clean this mess, and he'll pay for the damages. I'm sorry, Daria,” he added, sighing deeply. “She _did_ attack first, but Gilbert is an instigator. I know very well that he isn't ignorant of your sister's personality. So I am apologizing for him, because he won't.”

Oregon remembered what Prussia had said to set her off the final time and grabbed for his hands, but he pulled away, muttering something about the bloody handkerchief in his hands. “God, Ludwig, did he really Live Stream that whole fight? Oh, no. Who else would have seen it?”

Germany shrugged and looked away. “Possibly everyone. France and Denmark definitely saw it, and I know America is in his group chat but he didn't call me or text...yet,” he added, as his phone buzzed. “It's my boss. Damn it, the video is all over the net. Someone put it on YouTube.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> In the next installment, we learn just who is responsible for spreading the video across the globe!


	4. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Washington gets an unpleasant phone call while texting with Denmark. Tar Baby makes his entrance.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song: Oh Me (as performed by Nirvana)

Washington sat curled in a ball, furiously texting with Denmark, who had blown up her phone as soon as video of the fight with Prussia was plastered all over Facebook, YouTube and Live Leaks. The Nordic nation was one of the few who were her friends, so when he asked her what happened, she told him everything. He was especially impressed with the final twenty minutes, and as soon as he'd seen her summon the storm he'd booked a flight to Seattle, so he'd be there in the next day or so. Washington frowned as he took forever to respond to her, wondering what else he was doing. She hoped he wasn't texting America at the same time. Her friendship with Denmark was a source of contention between them, because Denmark supported her dream of a Northwest secession. Washington thought it made America quite the hypocritical bastard, seeing as it didn't seem to affect his relationship with Denmark at all. Quickly Washington sent the Viking nation a text along with a snap of her rapidly healing face, informing him that her father was there, which he took to mean America. She smirked at his cheerful response and sent another text, with one word.

No

His reply was equally short.

Fuck

Her phone vibrated harshly and she sighed at the caller’s name. Oh so _now_ her sunshine and lollipops dad decided to call her? Probably only because Denmark had made such a big deal about the fight. But as it turned out, America hadn't been talking with Denmark at all.

“Katie MacCrimmon, you had better have a good reason why I shouldn't kick your ass for that disastrous video. Don't even _tell_ me you don't know what I'm talking about. I'm watching it right now,” he shouted down the phone. She knew he was _really_ angry when he didn't add ‘Jones’ to her human name. It was his way of disowning her, albeit temporarily. “So you're getting into fights with _Gilbert_ now? Who will it be next? What is _wrong_ with you? Do you _have_ to be so goddamn unpleasant?”

“What do you want me to answer first?" she snapped, and he sighed loudly, clearly not in the mood for any of her bullshit, as Idaho often gleefully called her interactions with her siblings and America. "I hate him,” she said, angrily. “You heard the shit he said!” She was glad that she actually had a reason to be angry, otherwise the situation would only end up becoming increasingly awkward and horrible. “You of all people should know that what happened to those people was _not_ my fuckin fault. They were too stupid to survive. Don't scold me. I'm not a baby, Alfred.”

He sighed, clearly frustrated. “Listen, is Arthur still there? His phone is off, and I need to talk to him.”

“No, he left after supper,” she mumbled, not wanting to talk about England. “I wish everyone would just fucking leave. Especially Prussia!”

“You've never even told him, have you?”

Washington wanted to punch something. Or some _one_. “I've barely told _you,”_ she replied. A spot behind her left ear began to ache. “Listen, Alfred, I have to go. Something's up.” She got out of her chair and stood in front of the window, newly replaced along with the flooring. If it weren't for the holes in the walls, you'd never know a fight had taken place. Washington gazed out towards the East for a moment before she finally saw it: a waterspout on the Sound. It had formed on land and damaged several buildings. With the storms that she summoned, depending upon the amount of rage with which she had called upon the elements, it could take nearly a day for the storm to subside. She watched it impassively for a few moments and then abruptly went out the sliding door. A small black shadow darted out with her, and she looked down in surprise.

“Tar Baby,” she murmured. “What's up, buddy?”

The black cat hopped up onto the railing. He swished his tail once. “Well, you,” he answered. “So, everyone thought that fight was cool, right?”

Washington narrowed her eyes at her oldest companion. Over eight hundred years he had not changed at all, as insolent and demanding as always, but also very loyal, except when it came to getting attention. “What do you mean, 'everyone' ? _So!_ It was _you_ who spread that video all over the place!" Washington glared at him. "You _asshole!_ Germany blamed Prussia for it because of the live streaming thing!” She sighed and ran a hand angrily through her hair. “Damn it, Tar Baby, you better fuckin apologize.”

“Ugh, fine,” the cat grumbled, “tomorrow. Okay?”

“Yeah, hey, Denmark is coming over tomorrow,” she informed him. “Are you going to be nice this time?”

“What? He's coming here?” Tar Baby narrowed his eyes. “Fuck.”

“Are you going to be nice?”

Sighing, the cat turned away. “Yeah. Fucking _great._ Now I'm going to have to listen to you guys _banging_ each other!”

Washington was surprised. “Tar Baby! How do you….never mind. Why do you have to be such a dick? You _like_ Denmark. He has a lion.”

“Uh, yeah, a lion that wants to _murder_ you,” the cat reminded her.

Washington snorted. “It doesn't want to murder me! Berserkr just wants to play when he's here, and he really likes you, Tar Baby, so you're going to have to be nice.”

The cat jumped down and stalked back to his cat door. “Fuck my life,” he muttered as he pushed the flap in.


	5. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An insomniac Prussia remembers a fateful meeting and is interrupted by someone he never would have expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song: I Run and I Die--Whalesfly

Prussia couldn't sleep.

It was nothing new to him: he'd never been a heavy sleeper even during his most peaceful period of history. And ever since that damnable party in Portland nearly thirty years ago, it was so much worse. His Brüderchen just couldn't leave well enough alone and just had to be interested in the one woman who would give anything to see him hang. Now he was in her house, and he couldn't sleep not only because he was too jacked up on memories but he also could feel something else watching him. A dark presence that was not altogether malignant, but it was unnerving all the same because it was so dark and yet he knew it didn't need to have light to see. It didn't help that his mind was playing horrible games with him, because he could hear a strange voice growling at him, swearing to kill him.

To make matters worse, whoever had spread the video of his fight with Washington around the internet had done so at his expense, because his Bruder had shouted at him for nearly twenty minutes about being a respectful guest. He had tried to explain that it had not been him, but his Bruder had been so irritated that he just wouldn't listen. Germany should have known better. Prussia would never have done something so thoughtless. If he'd wanted to spread the video around he'd have selected only those who mattered to him. As much as she made him miserable, he didn't hate Washington, but being in her house was enough to make him wish he had let Russia kill him during his siege of Berlin. And that in itself was terrible, but the worst part was that Germany knew why Washington hated being around them so much and he still forced his brother to stay here.

Germany knew. And he knew that Prussia _knew_ that he knew. Fuck, what a _mess_. The fight should have ended when she'd tossed him outside, but his taunt about the failed seaside community had enraged her, and everything after that was a very much sincere battle.

When the Second World War began, at first it looked like America might stay out of it. But then Japan had attacked him and ruined everything.

He and Ludwig had both dreaded hearing the words, “The Americans are coming” for the entire war. Those words meant that not just America, but also his children were going to be facing them and some of those children were fucking insane and neither German brother wanted to find out just how far that insanity went. Prussia knew that his secret crush on Washington was unwise, because it was suspected that she was in fact the most insane of all the states, no matter what anyone thought of New Jersey or Texas or even Florida. But there was no way to stop them, and all they could do was wait in their dread. It had been a hateful time for the entire world then, dark and hopeless, with the very air full of the sharp tang of blood and gunpowder. 

The taste of cloves, still on her mouth.

“Gilbert _Beilschmidt.”_

So silent, he had not seen her until he'd realized someone had lit a cigarette. A voice in the dark, slightly raspy, calling him by his True Name. America was a man, of course, and this was a woman's voice. It would be one of America's children, because their Army had finally reached the Saar and Prussia’s men were valiantly fighting a losing battle. Shadows shifted in the darkness and the smell of cloves mixed with that of ancient trees and fresh rain. _Her_. He jerked in surprise, dropping his last cigarette in a puddle. 

“Fuck. Washington! What the hell are you _doing_ here?” he hissed. He knew she was in Germany, had felt the ground quake at her arrival. So many of his citizens had emigrated from Germany to the Pacific Northwest that both he and Ludwig were permanently linked to her. They had been watching each other for almost thirty years now, and he was tired of watching her. He wanted to _experience_ her, but wouldn't you know, they were at war again. She had come over with Canada and Oregon, and rumors of a swift and terrible twilight had begun to spread among the Germans. Whispers of soldiers killed in the night, with only an Ace of Spades playing card as a reminder that someone else had ever been there. 

“I'm going to Berlin,” she replied, her voice oddly gentle. “This has to stop.” She stood near enough to him that he could feel the exhaustion radiating from her. The realization that the whispers were true dawned as he looked her over: Her helmet was decorated with a boot-black Spade, and it was pockmarked, with scars from bullets and shrapnel. Her face was sooty from the many fires raging through every town on the road to the capital of the Reich. She was bloody and sweaty and filthy and he thought her absolutely _beautiful_ like that. He didn't care if she was crazy. He gazed at her and wanted her but didn't dare say so. She stood quietly and smoked her clove until he made an impatient gesture and she passed it to him.

“If you are caught, I can't help you,” he warned. He could taste her on the cigarette, and wanted more.

She sniffed, sounding slightly amused. “I'd _never_ ask that of you.”

He stubbed the spent cigarette out on his boot. “I'll see you there, little one,” he began. Shadows shifted in the darkness. 

“I don't want to have to kill you the next time I see you,” she murmured. She was now so close to him that he could taste the sweetness of fresh spring rain in the back of his throat. Could smell the deep green of the mossy trees. He breathed her in and wanted more. She didn't move away when she noticed this. Instead, she moved even closer to him, and his heart began to pound. “But I will, if you force my hand.”

Prussia smiled despite himself. “And I would never ask _that_ of _you_ , little one,” he assured her, and now they looked at each other because they had said everything that needed saying. In the smoky darkness of a bombed out church he tasted the rain and the trees as the earth rumbled and the world shuddered around them. Tasted the cloves on her mouth; felt her smile against his shoulder, biting hard against the moan in her throat as his cock thrust into her. She clutched him tightly and arched hard against him as he began to move inside of her. She was tight and wet and ready to be fucked, and he made her cry his name into the darkness. Tongues rolled against each other, tasting. She had allowed him to finish inside of her and then they lay tangled together, kissing passionately, breathing hard. She lay on his chest and he stroked her hair, gazing into her eyes. 

"Everything is more beautiful now because we are doomed," he said. "You will never be as lovely as you are right now. We will never be here again."

They smiled at each other and she put her head down. The sounds of battle moved away as the night deepened, and for the first time in either of their long existences they had slept in the comfort of their mutual embrace.

Then, as dawn had blushed on the horizon, bruising clouds heavy with rain, she had been awakened by a tender kiss, and she opened her eyes to gaze into Prussia’s red ones. Without a word, she parted her thighs as he kissed her neck; slowly he ran his hands down her thighs as his kisses moved down to her collarbone; then his tongue curled around both nipples as he kissed her breasts; finally he moved down her belly to her sweet, luscious pink gash, kissing and licking slowly until she trembled beneath his tongue. She stroked his hair tenderly as he sucked gently on her little bud, until finally she begged for his cock and he thrust into her. They made love then for the last time, conceiving their little one, and afterwards she let him kiss her in farewell, but it had not been farewell. She had seen him at Berlin four weeks later, and had very nearly killed him. Canada had stopped her.

He should not have let Canada stop her. 

She had flown at him in her rage and horror and sorrow, pummeling him to the ground as she shrieked in fury that they were children, and old men, and he was dead to her because he had sent children and old men to their deaths in battle to defend a doomed city. Canada had finally grasped her by the waist and bore her away as she flailed hard to free herself. She could not, and as Prussia staggered to his feet he noticed Canada's own helmet also had a Spade painted on it. The Squad of Spades was Canada and Washington. And he held Washington like a vice because if he hadn't, she would have killed him and he would have let her. She glared at him as England handcuffed him, lunging once more when he was led past her to the truck that would take him to the Allied prison. Screaming out her hatred for him, the entire world heard it, but what he saw in her eyes was so much worse. Behind the death and fire, there was also hurt and betrayal. She had opened herself to him willingly and he had still torn her apart. Hurt and betrayal and something else.

That something else was the hardest to live with. 

She had _loved_ him.

“You can't sleep?”

Prussia nearly leapt out of bed at the little voice, and was very surprised to see a small boy standing in the doorway to his room. He looked to be about five years old, and he also looked very familiar. He could have been any of the thousands of dead German children that would haunt his dreams forever. 

“Nein,” Prussia replied, feeling increasingly unsettled at the sight of this little boy. He had a tousle of pale, silky blond hair and very bright blue eyes. Like Father’s, Prussia thought--no, _Gilbert,_ he was very suddenly just Gilbert now. Like Germania’s hair, like Germania's eyes, and Germany's. Had his Brüderchen fathered a son with Oregon without anyone knowing? he wondered. Prussia supposed it was possible. The boy looked amazingly like Germany had as a little one. But _everything_ about this little boy screamed Washington. The way he stood, and the stoic way he stared at Prussia, with only the barest curiosity showing in those clear blue eyes. He didn't look a damn thing _like_ Oregon. But the shape of his eyes, large and slightly upturned, was _exactly_ like Washington's.

Had his little brother had a child with her?

“I can't sleep either,” the boy replied, nodding in agreement. He came into the room and stood at the foot of the bed. Something about the way he tilted his head made Prussia very uneasy. “Mama says it's hopeless, because both she and my Papa don't sleep well.” He rolled his eyes and then smirked, and Prussia felt his mouth go dry.

The boy was still young and soft, but his facial structure was far more angular than Germany's, and when he smirked, it was like looking into a mirror. “What's your name, little one?” he asked, relieved that his voice didn't come out in a shriek. 

“My name's Nicholas, but Mama says that's just my human name. I'm Cascadia.”

Prussia nodded once, slowly. "And is Oregon your mama?"

The little one shook his head. "Nej, Washington is my mama. Aunt Daria is my…" He smiled. "Well, see? Oregon is my aunt. Except not really. Because my Mama is adopted, and Bedstefar Scotland took care of her before that, but he isn't her Papa either. Russland is." He looked around in alarm as lightning flickered, and cried out in undisguised terror when the thunder growled. Without any hesitation he jumped into the bed, burrowing under the blankets, and into Gilbert, as much as he could. Squeaking in fright, he peeked around at Prussia, who was now completely aware of to whom this little upstart belonged. The instant the boy touched him, it surged through him like a live current. 

_His_.

Shadows moving in the dark, tasting of blood and gunpowder and cloves. Of spring rain and ancient trees.


	6. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prussia meets his son. Germany smokes a bowl. Oregon stresses out. Tar Baby is a dick.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song: Would? By Alice in Chains

He got no sleep that night, and as the early dawn broke he eased himself out of Cascadia’s grasp and made his way into the kitchen. He would have tripped over the black cat sprawled across the kitchen floor if he had not seen its devious plan from the hallway, and as he gracefully maneuvered around it, he clearly heard the cat mutter, “Damn it!”

The sinister voice from last night. Prussia and the cat smirked at each other. 

Although the sun was rising, it was only five o’clock. Yet he was not the only one awake. Sitting at the table with a tankard of coffee was Oregon, and she looked exhausted. The cat got up and began to attack her feet, but she acted like she didn't even feel it.

“Guten Morgen,” Prussia began, cautiously. She sighed and pinched the bridge of her nose.

“I don't know where my sister is,” she mumbled, looking rattled. “Nicholas is going to know she's not here the minute he wakes up. God, Gilbert, I'm sorry. Tar Baby, stop,” she added, and the cat huffed, slinking out to stare at Prussia again.”Someone should have told you,” she went on; she peered up at him and saw that he already knew. Still, it felt good to finally admit it. “Cascadia. He's her son. And yours. She meant never to tell you.”

“I know,” he replied. 

“Son of a bitch, really?” the cat exclaimed, though he had known all along. “What, was nobody ever going to tell me?”

“She told me what happened,” Oregon admitted, ignoring the cat, “in Saarbrücken. She said she didn't want to tell it twice. When she found out that she was pregnant I told her she should be honest with you, but she wouldn't listen. Canada finally said I should just let it go until it took care of itself, and that we should wait until he was born so that we could see for sure...you know, because she had been with Canada right after you so there was a real chance Cascadia wasn't yours, but...but it was so difficult for me to watch her suffer. Going to Berlin hurt her. More than she ever said.” 

“Ja, it hurt all of us,” Prussia replied. Germany came through the kitchen door from outside, still exhaling a cloud of smoke. The pungent odor of the marijuana clung to him and Gilbert--he was just Gilbert again--raised his eyebrows in surprise. “You, smoking weed?” he exclaimed. He didn't wait for his brother to answer. Oregon was clearly on the way to a panic attack and he needed to calm her down before the boy woke up and saw her like this. “Daria, listen,” he began, forcing her to look at him. He held the coffee just out of her reach. “Washington is fine. Kate is fine. All you need to do is think about her, and you'll be able to feel where she's at. Hmm? Let's see,” he added, hearing Cascadia's voice rising as he barreled into the kitchen. Before the child could even finish whining that his mother wasn't home, Prussia knelt and took the boy by his shoulders.

“Listen up, kiddo, and you'll be able to find out exactly where your Mom is,” he proclaimed. “Easy. Feet firmly on the ground. Okay?”

The boy nodded. In the morning light Prussia could definitely see the resemblance to himself, even if the child had Germany's coloring. And the shape of his eyes was indeed like Washington's, like Kate's.

He was the most beautiful thing Prussia had ever seen.

“Okay. Now, concentrate on your Mom. Think about her as hard as you can, and you'll be able to feel her in your bones if she's anywhere in her state.”

Cascadia trembled as a frown creased his little face. Then, suddenly, his face broke into a smile that was very much like Gilbert's own. “She's in Seattle! Uncle Mathias is here!”

“Fuuuuuck,” the cat muttered.

Surprised, Prussia looked over at Germany. Oregon caught the shared confusion. 

“Well, of course he can tell, because Denmark has been like. ...well, he's been very helpful with Cascadia. He and Canada both have taken him under wing.” She looked guilty. “It's difficult because he thinks Canada is his papa, and they don't discourage it.”

“Aber Bruder, es kann nur sich verändern,” Germany quickly added, “weil er jetzt endlich seinen wahren Vati kennengelernt hat.”

Cascadia turned to look at Prussia. “Is that..." he paused, thinking. “Ist das die Wahrheit?” Although he had never spoken German before, it felt right on his tongue, even more so than Uncle Mathias’ Danish, which was easy for him to speak too. “Bist du mein Vati?”

“Ja, stimmt,” Prussia said, gravely. “Das bedeutet dann, daß Ludwig auch dein Onkel ist.”

“Aber mein Papa,” Cascadia began.

The cat thumped his tail. “So what…. nobody's gonna talk about what a hoe Kate is?”

“Tar Baby, quit being a dick!” Oregon snapped. 

Prussia hefted the boy in his arm. Gods, the kid was solid. “Er ist immer noch dein Papa. Es ändert nichts daran, dass ich überhaupt dein Vater bin. Der liebt seinen Nikolaus so sehr wie früher.” Behind him, he heard Oregon stifling a sob, or perhaps it was a laugh. Grinning, he reached out and messed up Cascadia's silky hair. “If it's okay with you!”

“Yay!” Cascadia bellowed, almost taking his ear off. “Frühstück, bitte!”

“Jawohl, mein Herr!” Prussia immediately went to work getting the ingredients together for his famous crepes Flanders. “Raus, verlass die Küche jetzt! Ludwig, vielleicht könnt ihr ein Buch zusammen lesen, oder?”

“Fuck you guys,” the cat snapped. “If anyone wants me, I’ll be brainwashing the mick.” Before he could leave in a huff, Cascadia grabbed him up and began to pet him roughly. Tar Baby tried to act disinterested, but he loved Cascadia and couldn't keep from purring, so he had to jump out of the boy's grasp before the Albino Potato Bastard noticed and said something in his annoying Prussian accent. Tail high, he stalked out of the kitchen and went to find Scotland.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Denmark arrives and has a beer with Prussia. Prussia and Denmark think back on the past. Cats play together whether they both want to or not. Denmark and Washington have a moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song: Foreshadow by Spaceouters

She could hear the loud, rollicking laughter of her son before they even got out of the car, and as they neared the house, the song and its singers became obvious. Washington froze in her tracks when she heard the voices of Germany and Prussia lustily singing ‘Erika’ as Cascadia slammed the beat upon the massive Viking war drum that had been a gift from Denmark to Washington in appreciation of her opening her territory to the Danes before she even gained Statehood. Now she stood trembling as Mathias gently coaxed her to go on through to the back where the German brothers and her little one were. Panicking, she refused to take another step.

"Lad mig ikke, nej, elskede, lad mig ikke gøre dette," she pleaded. "Nej. Nej, nej. I should have told you to bring Jens so he could have someone to play with while we deal with this. Helvede.” She suddenly felt her head swimming, her throat tightened, and she fought the urge to scream. She clutched at him desperately. “Dane, I can't fucking breathe! Jeg kan ikke! Jeg dør! Jeg kan ikke gøre det! Nej, nej nej nej nej nej - ”

Denmark had been through panic attacks before with her, so he knew what to do. Dropping his luggage on the spot, because fuck the stupid shit, she was his ride-or-die, he wrapped her into a tight bear hug and didn't relent his grip until she had stopped panting.

“Elskede,” he began, “you knew the day would come when you must deal with the consequences of the choices we all made." He held her to him, petting her hair. He was the only one who was permitted to touch her like this, brazenly worshipping. "Elskede," he said again. "Lyt til dem! They are enjoying themselves together. You can't ask for better."

She shuddered against him. "Jeg hader ham," she muttered into his neck.

But he knew better. "Nej," he insisted. "Nej, _det_ gør du ikke."

Because he loved her, though, he couldn't bring himself to force her into an even more uncomfortable situation than the one which she had already created for herself, so he went out to the back by himself after he made sure she was okay. Fetching himself a beer, he headed out to the deck and raised the bottle to the boisterous trio. Even Ludwig, who rarely did anything spontaneous, looked as though he was truly enjoying himself. Children either brought out the best in people, or the utmost worst, Denmark mused. And Germany had his own little one with her, so he knew the joy of being a father. Denmark threw himself down in his favorite chair. When Cascadia saw him, he yelled in glee.

“Onkel Mathias!”

From somewhere nearby a low voice muttered, “ _FuuUCK!!”_

“Hej, nevø,” he called back, and Cascadia thundered towards him to be grabbed up. “Oof, du er vokset!”

“Ja, jeg vil være større end dig, Onkel Mathias,” Cascadia proclaimed. He looked around and spotted the large cat carrier. “Berserker er her! Tar Baby, du kan spiller med ham!”

“Fanden!” Tar Baby responded. As a spirit animal and familiar, he was fluent in every language spoken by the people living in Washington's house, though he preferred English. "Helvede! Fuck this shit, I am not going to pla--ay--ay--" his litany of foul complaints was cut off when Berserker snatched him up and tossed him onto his back, taking off at a dead run across the rolling grass. Tar Baby finally leapt down. They chased each other furiously until Tar Baby jumped into a tree.

"Try and follow me now," he taunted. Prussia joined Denmark inside the house.

"Hey, does that thing talk too?" he asked. He fucking hoped not. One bitchass cat was enough.

"Nope," Denmark replied, "and I never even tried to teach him. Hey, she's got a new beer or eleven. This one's really good." He held it up. "Want one?"

"Yeah," Prussia said, imitating Tar Baby. "Man, that thing is a piece of work. Do you know how many times it's threatened to kill me?"

"He does that to everyone," Denmark assured him.

Prussia glanced over at him, deep in thought. “What is her relationship with Canada like?”

“Gil,” Denmark began, then sighed. There was no reason to lie about it. “He'd kill for both of them. He loves the boy, and you already know that he's always cared the world for Washington. By the way, speaking of which. ...I suggest you don't mention that you fought with her--he probably wouldn't like it even if he knew you guys weren't really trying to kill each other. And he might not have seen that video yet, because if he had, you would be minus a few vital bits.”

Prussia, who knew _exactly_ what Canada was capable of, was not eager to envision the usually polite nation using his femur as a toothpick. He'd have to make sure Canada knew it hadn't been his idea to be violent. “She loves him?” It was difficult for him to imagine Washington loving anyone, even though he had felt it himself once upon a ruin. Not just him, either. But it was so contradictory to the closed off image she projected that nobody would believe it. He wouldn't have believed it himself if he hadn't been the one to suggest it to his Brüderlein in the first place. He sighed and shrugged his shoulders. He wasn't really wondering about Canada, and Denmark knew it.

“Gilbert, she loves her family,” Denmark began, feeling slightly awkward. He tried to make it seem less obvious that he was trying to avoid talking about himself. “I know you're talking about me, so I'll just tell you. Of course we care about each other, and have for centuries. Sometimes we sleep together--we don't always sleep, though. Sometimes we just fuck. Ever since she showed up with Scotland, back when she was barely a grown woman. She was very unpolished,” he added, grinning at the memory. “He'd taught her to pilot a ship, so she came all the way to København just to tell me that I could come to visit her and that my people were welcome. I'd never seen anything like it before. Such boldness for someone so inexperienced. England taught Oregon the manners of a lady, but Scotland saw past the need for that and Washington didn't even curtsey to _me,_ the Kingdom of Denmark! She treated me as her equal even though she was merely a Scottish territory. That takes more than just balls. Norge and Sverige saw her when she landed and they couldn't believe it either. England and her sister both looked as if they wanted to jump into the sea, but I thought she was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen. I didn't know how treacherous she could be then, until she showed me. I was her first.”

Prussia remembered quite clearly that Washington--Kate--had certainly not been a maiden when she had met him in Saarbrücken. There had long been rumors that she had been intimate with both Canada and Denmark. He wasn't jealous of his longtime friend, or of Canada, but he regretted that he had not known about his own son for so long. It had been nearly eighty years since that night, but the tang of blood and gunpowder had mixed with the sweetness of greenery and the fresh smell of rain and it had remained with him all along, like the darkly sweet taste of the cloves on her mouth.

After a few more beers, Denmark admitted that he knew what had happened in Berlin, and that afterwards, Washington and Canada had holed up in a hotel room and got high out of their minds, overdosing on heroin and cocaine, drinking lethal amounts of whiskey and smoking so much weed that even Netherlands was gobsmacked, and they did not leave the hotel until their supply ran out. For a month afterwards, the two were inseparable and then Washington had to leave Europe for the Pacific. She was finally going to show that insufferable twit Japan what she, and the Pacific Northwest in general, was capable of. She flew the second bomb, Fat Man, into Nagasaki herself. She had insisted upon it because America had flown the first mission and she wanted to show him that she was capable of the same level of might as he was. He had not wanted her to do it, not because, as he initially claimed, he was worried about her but because he knew that she was well on the way to being capable of it, and in showing him, it would sow seeds of discord between them. But the components of the bombs were hers, and she was still furious with Japan for assuming she would just allow his citizens to remain living free in her state after what he had started. She not only imprisoned every last one of them starting the very next day after Pearl Harbor, but she made sure her siblings did the same, and she kept her prisoners an entire year longer than anyone else, although she claimed it was because they would have been homeless otherwise since not many realtors would sell to an Asian of any kind, and the prejudice in the entire Northwest leaned strongly in the favor of North and Western Europeans. Even the Russians had some difficulty being accepted especially if they looked and sounded the part. She had flown the mission and was not sorry then, nor was she sorry ten, twenty, or even seventy years later. A decade later still and Japan knew that she did not want to be friends. Business partners, yes, but _never_ friends.

Prussia was thinking of this too, because if the past eighty years was any indication how this would play out, he would probably never get to see Cascadia again. He looked out the window, watching his son play with Scotland, and he also noticed Tar Baby. He stared in amazement at the black cat, which was curled up on the body of Denmark's lion, aptly named Berserkr. The two cats looked very chummy. The larger opened one eye and abruptly decided he wanted to chase after the boy, to which Tar Baby objected strenuously. Nicholas was fast, like himself, Prussia saw. Finally the cat leapt to safety, stomping into the house. When he saw Prussia he said, very casually, “Hey jerk.”

“What's up, asshole?”

Denmark laughed, and Tar Baby looked at him, swishing his tail. “Yo, jackass, are you done trying to steal my slave?”

“Uh, no,” Denmark replied, chortling.

Tar Baby raised his voice. “Hey, kilt bastard!”

From the back deck, Scotland snapped back, “Fuck, what _noo_ , ye radge cat?”

“Viking bastard wants--”

Washington stormed into the room and yanked the cat into a tight embrace. He struggled briefly before realizing it was pointless, and had to endure her raining kisses onto his head and face.

“I'll _kill_ you,” he muttered.

“Oh, but kitty kitty kitty,” Washington crooned, “you're such a _nice sweet_ boy, and I love you so _fucking_ much. Yes, yes, yes.” She continued to kiss on the traumatized cat as both Denmark and Prussia wheezed with breathless laughter. She avoided having to speak to Gilbert, but with Mathias there it was easier to address them both. “Ludwig and Daria are getting a pig and we're having a luau,” she informed them.

Berserkr and Cascadia barreled into the house. “Mama! Guess who I saw! I saw Maunen! Onkel Mathias, er Haugen nær?”

Haugen and Maunen were the Ravens of Odin, and they were rarely apart. Denmark had been under their protection for nearly a thousand years, and they had proved themselves to be deadly in battle. Now that times were peaceful they mainly remained in the company of the Nordics, but recently Haugen had begun to stay at Denmark's side, causing Berserkr to keep a close eye on Denmark in case of an enemy attack. The lion would go into battle for him the instant Haugen gave the warning.

But Maunen had chosen long ago to cross the globe and patrol the Northwest, becoming one of Washington's dark companions. He had been present at Cascadia's birth and had watched over him ever since. “If Maunen let you see him, then Haugen must not be far away,” Denmark promised. The boy's joyful shout shook the house, and he proceeded to drag Prussia outside to show him. Tar Baby finally escaped and followed them, determined to keep an eye on the Albino Potato bastard. Denmark and Washington watched them for a minute and when he put his arm around her, she leaned into him.

 _“Are_ you trying to steal me?” she asked, glancing up at him.

“Måske,” he replied.

She sniffed. “Well, in order to be stolen, don't I have to _belong_ to someone? It's not stealing if you just take something that isn't someone else's in the first place.”

He smirked. “Are you saying you _want_ to be taken?”

She would have answered and kept the dance going for another hour or two, but she didn't really feel like it, and she wanted him to kiss her and he was taking forever, so she kissed him instead. He felt his insides melting and had just lifted her off the ground when Prussia and Cascadia slammed into the window, both yelling, _“Eeeeewwwww!”_


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Denmark and Cascadia spend quality time together. Canada arrives. Scotland takes Washington and Prussia out to the firing range. Denmark remembers a fateful meeting. Sex happens. Iceland has a video chat with Denmark and Tar Baby.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song: All I Need by Clams Casino

"Elsker du min mor?” Cascadia asked Denmark, nestled in the Viking’s lap. It was the next morning and they had just finished breakfast. Cascadia had been unusually quiet until now. He looked over his shoulder curiously.

“Selvfølgelig, Nikolaj,” Mathias assured him. “Jeg elsker jer begge mere end noget andet.”

“Mor elsker ikke min far,” Nicholas sighed. “Hvorfor? Hvad skete der?”

Denmark put his chin on the top of Cascadia's head and thought for a moment before he answered, choosing his words very carefully. “Krig, dreng. Jeg fortæller dig, hvad dine forældre allerede ved. Krig gør os til monstre, til trods for hvem vi elsker.” Cascadia looked worried, and Denmark ruffled his hair. “Men lyt til mig, hvis ikke for krigen, ville du ikke være dit fantastiske selv!”

“Er det sant? Virkelig?”

“Selvfølgelig,” Denmark said firmly. “Begge dine forældre elsker dig, Nikolaj. Tro mig.”

“Ja, det ved jeg,” Cascadia promised. He paused. “Tror du, de kæmper igen? Bedstefar så en video. …”

“Nej, min kær.” Denmark kissed his forehead gently. “And speaking of bedstefar, how would you like to go with Bedstefar Scotland to the sea tomorrow? We're going sailing all day. Just us Vikingr.”

Cascadia laughed his Woody Woodpecker laugh that was just like Washington's. Denmark was quite possibly the only one besides Oregon and Canada to ever have heard her laugh. “Bedstefar Scotland isn't a Viking! He's Scottish!”

“Oh, okay,” Denmark chuckled. “And what about you? Are you a Viking or are you Scottish?”

“Both,” Cascadia proclaimed. “And I'm German, too. Uh...Far says Prussia is German.” He grinned and puffed his chest out. “I'm fearless and awesome!” His eyes widened as a familiar presence made itself known to him. “Papa!”

Canada left the front door open so Kumajirou could come and go as he pleased. “Nicolas, mon chér,” he murmured, as his son hugged his legs. “Tu tortures ton oncle Mathias, ma chérie?”

“Ouais!” Cascadia nodded as he eagerly scrambled onto Kuma’s back. “Killer Moose!” he bellowed, and the bear took off. Canada brought ales from the kitchen and handed one to Denmark. Now they could relax and be Matthew and Mathias, or as Washington liked to call them, “The Matts”. They clinked their bottles together and Canada looked thoughtful. “Do they get along all right?” he wondered.

Denmark snorted. “If you're talking about Gil and Kate, the answer is no.”

“Hm, I saw the video,” Canada admitted. “Francis had to physically restrain me, or I'd have been here yesterday. He didn't uncuff me until this morning. Is Allistor here?” He didn't really need to ask. Scotland had always been a much more involved father than Alfred, even after she'd been adopted into the States. Her relationship with America sucked; it always had, because not only was she an extraordinarily difficult child but she had grown into a state that would push harder than America could pull. She refused to ask for help and insisted on being left to her own governance, which disturbed him to no end especially since Cascadia was born. He'd finally given up and Canada kept an eye on her, just in case. As Oregon had blossomed in America’s care, Washington had learned to look to Canada for comfort. So it was really no wonder her brothers and sisters assumed that she was part of Canada.

“Ja, he dragged Kate out of bed by her hair this morning,” Denmark told him. “And he took Gil outside with them. But you meant Gil and Nicholas, didn't you? Matt, he loves the kid already. Hell, both the German Bros were out back with him yesterday, and even Germany was singing! They could have picked a different song,” he added, making a little face. The wartime marches still put a bad taste in his mouth. “At least they got out the door before they started fighting, but Scotland had to keep them apart.”

Sudden gunshots erupted in steady succession. “Ah,” Canada said, looking smug. “He took them to the firing range. She'll beat him, without a doubt.”

“What?” Denmark smirked. “Don't be so sure. America taught her how, didn't he? And Prussia taught him. It'll be close, but I'll have to go with Gil.”

Canada chuckled darkly. “Mathias, Al didn't teach her to shoot. I did. She's got this.”

Denmark's smile froze on his face. If Canada had taught her, it meant she was formidable with a gun. France was Canada's Papa, but he had tasked Finland with Canada's firearms training because of the similarities between their climates. “You mean…”

“Alfred didn't want anything to do with training her,” Canada said, sounding slightly irritated. Just another reason why she'd always felt unwanted. “He thought she was too cruel, even back then. Would shoot to maim on purpose instead of outright kill. I put a stop to that, but she still has that inclination. You saw it in Normandy, Mathias. Remember the bunker?”

“That was fucked up,” Denmark shuddered. She had taken out all but one of the men with head shots, but left the last one and tormented him by sniping at him from a concealed spot until he had finally surrendered screaming on his knees. If Canada had not been there to stop her, she would have executed him like that.

“She'll beat him,” Canada repeated. “If she doesn't, it's because she let him beat her.” He smirked. “And that's how we'll know if she decides to at least be nice to him.”

“She ought to be nice to him for Nicholas’ sake,” Denmark pointed out. 

“Sure she should, eh,” Canada shrugged. “But think about it, eh. We've all had to go through rough times, and maybe we did things we aren't proud of, but we've all had to learn the same lessons. Some of us learn particular lessons a bit better than others. Maybe too much so, eh?”

More gunshots, this time much more rapid. Another volley still, and voices echoed towards them. Scotland's gruff brogue, followed by Washington's slightly raspy contralto answered by Prussia's sharp, angry baritone. The voices all came through quite clearly.

“Bloody hell, lass! Gi’us the gun, don't--”

“Fuck you! I'll kill you, bastard!”

“Do it then, you fucking bitch!”

“Onkel Mathias! Papa!” Cascadia burst through the front door, still on Kuma’s back. The bear had run to the house from the firing range. “Bedstefar Scotland says Mama and Far are going to kill each other, and we can't make them stop! Help!”

The men leapt to their feet and ran out behind Kuma, but stopped when a relieved looking Scotland strode down the hill. Prussia and Washington were not with him, but he had both guns in his hand.

“Don't worry, lad,” he rumbled, passing the weapons to Canada. “They'll be all right.” He rubbed his face, letting out a deep breath. “Fuck, I need a drink.”

Denmark went with Canada into the room where Washington kept her weapons, wanting to continue their conversation away from little ears. “What were you saying?”

“I was telling you,”Canada began, “the reason why this fucked-off situation is happening.” He turned and Denmark recoiled at the sadness on his face. “Because she broke her own rule, and discovered what most of us wouldn't even stop to consider. But to her it’s so painful that she’d do anything to keep it from happening again.” He shook his head. “As necessary as it is.” He remembered how hurt Washington had been when she had learned that she and Oregon were being adopted. England had convinced Scotland to give her up when he relinquished Oregon, and it had taken quite a bit of reassurance from him that he had not wanted to do it, but England had been persuasive. Washington had not gone willingly and had been very sullen, refusing America's overtures of welcome and turning away even from Oregon but she had accepted Canada because he had been content to watch over her quietly, and had comforted her when she came to him instead of scolding her, as his brother had done. She had not spoken to England for nearly a hundred years afterwards. Her first words to him had been at Normandy on D-Day: “All right, you limey bastard. Let's do this.” Canada smiled slightly at the memory, but it was more bitter than sweet, because that had been the second act of the far more serious situation they were in now. The opening act had been a slow burn, but the intermission had allowed the embers to bloom into flame and she had purposely sought Prussia out once in Germany. And it had been like someone tossing a lit match onto a pile of dry hay. He had not liked it, because she had been intimate with only himself since 1917 (much to Denmark's annoyance), but as with the situation between Washington and Denmark, Canada could not prevent her from pursuing a relationship with Prussia. “Grief,” he said, softly.

“Hm?” Denmark turned from the rack of swords.

“Grief is the price we pay for love,” Canada murmured. “We all know it, and some of us never forget it.” He grunted. “Both of us have been close to her for a long time--hundreds of years. We both helped her grow, but the first time Prussia met her, she was a grown woman and she had to show him things about her that we already knew. And that takes trust.”

Denmark understood. He was fortunate to have the deeply intimate relationship with Washington that he had, and knew how lucky he was to have gained her trust so easily that long ago afternoon in Købnhavn. England and Oregon were with them, and the Englishman had been very proud of his young ward; Oregon’s manners and clothing were impeccable. Scotland had introduced all of them, but when he got to Washington , instead of dropping into a graceful curtsey, she had stepped right up to him, thrusting her hand out and introducing herself, giving him her human name, and proclaiming her lands open for him to settle.

Amazed, he had glanced over at Sweden and Norway; Berwald and Lukas were both hiding their mouths behind their fists. And Denmark looked back at the brash little child-woman, who had a little black cat on her shoulder, and had taken the proffered hand, firmly grasping it and was impressed at the strength in her own grip. England looked mortified, as did Oregon , but Scotland's face showed nothing but pride. It was her first diplomatic voyage and she had never even been kissed at that point. He had been delighted to teach her about physical intimacy. At the time, his English had been limited to vulgarities and insults, so he did not dare try to woo her in English especially since Scotland was surely never out of earshot even in the privacy of his rooms. So he spoke as softly as he could as he wondered aloud in Danish that she had never even been kissed, and then did kiss her to illustrate what he was saying, but struggled to keep his tone gentle after she trusted him to undress her. The pounding of her heart nearly sent him mad. “Jeg kommer til at kneppe dig nu,” he had breathed into her mouth, “og du vil nyde det.” He had tried to keep quiet for her dignity, but the part of her brain that controlled her own chastity seemed to be nonexistent and after the initial discomfort, which she bore with only a slight wince despite his size, she had loudly encouraged him to do her harder and faster, and that was all it took for him to throw all caution out the window. Upon seeing her maidenblood on the sheets, he had nearly gone Viking on her, laughing when he heard Scotland hammering on the wall, bellowing to keep it down. Though she had been utterly inexperienced upon her arrival, to his utmost delight she learned quickly. Only the threat of Scotland's fury had kept him from invading her land to populate the territory with only Danish citizens. They had not left his bed for nearly three whole days. How quickly she had warmed up to being _his_ , his kærste; though he would have other lovers through the years, only she received those endearments. As she grew into adulthood, Canada began to notice her, and upon her entrance into the First World War along with the rest of her siblings and America, her northern neighbor finally staked his claim. Granted, he had been watching her patiently for years, so it wasn't a surprise, but Denmark had been disappointed, though he would not cause problems for his friends and allies. Even then, they managed to get together as close friends do from time to time up until the invasion of Normandy. For nearly sixty years after the Second World War, she had been exclusive with Canada, but they had decided to stop being sexually intimate after America had been attacked in the early 2000s. Denmark had been one of the first to contact her that day, and had been the only one besides Canada to express concerns about her safety and that of Cascadia. But he would be patient with her when it came to their relationship. He had been more than willing to wait until she was ready, though he was quite eager to resume their physical relationship, and it had been very much on his mind yesterday during his flight to Seattle. And she seemed to be thinking of the same thing because she had kissed him first not two hours after he'd arrived. He had not been surprised to ‘accidentally’ run into her as she herded Cascadia into bed. The boy had gotten not one, but two stories from Prussia, and though she was glad that he actually wanted to be a part of his son’s upbringing, at the same time, it made her sad. And Denmark knew perfectly well why. They had tucked the boy into bed together, and then he had taken her to theirs. As he had hoped, she had not put him into a guest room, so she had planned on sleeping with him and was very receptive to him. He didn't even have to say anything. They were loud enough to annoy Scotland, who beat on the wall and threatened to kill Denmark if they kept it up, after which Washington began to giggle uncontrollably. They tried to be quieter after that, and Scotland didn't complain again at least, but when they finally finished, hours later, he shouted through the wall, “Boot fecking time. Go tae goddamn sleep!” 

“Yeah, you jerks,” Tar Baby had growled from Cascadia's room. “Shut up.”

This morning they had used the sound of the shower to muffle the noise they made, and they got back under the blankets afterwards although their hair was still wet. Now they finally discussed what she had wanted to avoid. Before Scotland finally interrupted them--most likely he had been eavesdropping in the hallway and had made the decision to deal with the escalating tension between Washington and Prussia before it got worse. What she had said to Denmark affected him greatly, because it was hurting her and the obvious pain in her normally even voice made him want to weep. “Everyone knew what he was doing. Even I knew it was bad, but until I. ...Dane, I knew what he was like and I still made the choice to let myself love him,” she said, sullenly. “And he took that part of me and took it to a place I'd hoped it would never go.” Her voice trembled, but she forced it back. “And that fucked me up, man. More than he'll ever know.”

“He needs to know, elskede.”

She had buried her head in his shoulder. “Nej.”

“Min kære, he didn't do it to hurt you,” Denmark reminded her gently. “War is its own special hell, and we've all done terrible things and made horrifying decisions in order to survive it. He was trying to save Germany, and his choices ended up costing a much steeper price than anyone's, even yours.” Scotland had entered the room at that point and upon seeing that they were naked, threw clothes at both of them and then stood watching them dress so that Washington couldn't bolt. Their attempt at masking their sex noise with the shower hadn't exactly worked on him, because when it came to Washington he had the ears of a fox. He gave Denmark a sidelong look and wondered if the Dane was actually trying to knock up his daughter, because they had fucked all bloody night; as soon as she was dressed, Scotland marched her downstairs where Prussia was already waiting. Denmark went to wake Cascadia, and he could faintly hear them lash out at each other as they went out to the back deck. 

“Fuck off,” Washington grumbled.

“There's no need to get angry at me,” Prussia sneered. “I'm not the one who lied for seventy five years.”

“Well if I'm angry then it's your fault!” she hissed back. “I wouldn't have had to lie if you hadn't been such a selfish fuck!”

“Shut your whore mouth,” Prussia snarled. “You're always making things difficult.”

There was then the distinct sound of someone hitting someone else and Scotland cuffing both their ears after threatening to do so didn't stop their skirmish. Denmark made Cascadia and himself breakfast, trying to distract the boy from the vicious argument outside. He was relieved when they finally walked away from the house.

“Onkel Mathias?”

“Spis din morgenmad, kær,” Denmark said, setting a plate of a roll with ham, poached eggs and an orange in front of him. Then he fed Tar Baby, who was now having second thoughts about his newest plans to get rid of Berserkr because of the awesome breakfast he was getting from the lion's slave. After they finished breakfast he had cleaned up and then he and Cascadia played with Legos until Canada arrived. 

Now that things seemed to have calmed down quite a bit, Denmark took the opportunity to phone Sweden, mainly to tell him that he was going to be staying for a while but also to tell him they would eventually be heading over to Berwald and Tino’s place to pick up Jens once Oregon was gone; he was still on the phone when Prussia and Washington came back to the house, both looking as though they'd been fighting since Scotland left them on the range. His lip was split and she had a small cut on the corner of her mouth. But they were quiet now, and he had the feeling that there would not need to be any more fistfights. They looked exhausted, and Denmark could see that it was not just their forced physical altercation that had tired them out. After all, Prussia's anger at learning about his son so ridiculously late was quite real, and it was justified. From the look in Washington's eyes he knew that things had been said that long needed saying.

He wanted to ask them about it, but Sve distracted him by mentioning that Norway and Iceland were visiting.

Denmark sat up. “Ice is there right now? Hey, I'm going to call you right back, and do a video chat, okay?” He searched through the house and finally spotted Tar Baby sleeping on Washington's bed. Quickly he called Sweden back, who frowned at him, but gave the phone to Iceland.

“What do you want?” Iceland asked, bluntly. “Are you at America’s house?”

“No. Well, sort of. I mean, I'm at one of his state's houses,” Denmark explained. “Washington. You know. Hey, I want you to meet someone,” he added, and quietly approached the sleeping cat. “His name's Tar Baby. Kitty kitty kitty,” he called, and the cat murmured sleepily, opening one eye. 

Upon seeing that it was Denmark, Tar Baby grunted and rolled over, away from him.

“Tar Baby,” Denmark began.

“Leave me alone,” the cat muttered, his voice muffled by the blankets. Iceland snorted.

“Tar Baby, kitty,” Denmark persisted.

“Whaaat?” the cat grumbled.

“Wake up, c’mon,” the Dane pleaded.

“No.”

Denmark gave Iceland a thumbs up, but Iceland was too focused on the cat to pay any attention. Tar Baby still made no move to get off the bed. “Tar Baby, c'mon, hey.”

“Why?”

“There's someone I want you to meet,” Denmark insisted.

“So?” Tar Baby reared his head, looking over his shoulder at the phone.

“So, you should say hello,” Denmark prompted. Tar Baby glanced at the phone again and put his head back down. Denmark let out an exasperated huff. 

“Fuuuck,” Tar Baby muttered. “Better shut up.”

“Tar Baby! Watch your language,” Denmark chided. The cat did not respond. “Hey.”

 **“ _Whaaaat_?”** the cat growled, sounding even angrier than before.

“Get up. Right now.”

_**“NO!”** _

“What are you doing?” Washington stood in the doorway, a baggie in her hand. “Hey Tar Baby, you want some catnip?”

This got the feline’s attention, yet he still acted put out. “Fine,” he sighed, getting up slowly. As he walked past Denmark he said, “Dick.”

Embarrassed, Denmark looked back at Iceland, who now had a very strange and knowing look on his face.

“Her cat talks, and it hates you,” the youngest Nordic remarked. “That has got to be the best thing ever. I'm telling Norge.” Iceland threw the phone back to Sweden, who wasn't looking like he was secretly laughing at Denmark at all. By the time he finally ended the call, Washington was talking with Canada out on the back deck. Denmark watched them surreptitiously through the window.

Despite their friendship, he was wary of the northern nation. Since the earliest days, Canada had been more than willing to exchange blows with America over Washington, more than once. Words became heated, posturing became shoving, and finally guns were drawn on both sides, neither backing down. 

Once, shortly before the 1964 world's Fair, which Washington would host, it was so serious that America had called for the National Guard to help him. To his dismay, Washington’s Guardsmen refused, so Idaho sent his own Guardsmen in, creating an even deeper rift between the two states. The unbearable tension between the brothers was finally broken when Washington faced America, with Canada at her back, and coldly told him to fuck off and leave her alone. Not willing to alienate his brother, or Oregon, who would invariably support her, America had backed down, but he reminded her that he would not tolerate her continued insolent behavior. Her response to that was to open her borders with Canada, and place checkpoints at the borders she shared with Idaho and even Oregon, much to his dismay. “Tolls”, she called them, but this gave him a sinking feeling in his gut for years afterwards.

It wasn't so bad now, but Denmark was admittedly nervous about Canada. Of any nation, he was the most likely to annex her, or to give her some of his own lands, as he had with Vancouver island. But if Washington was okay with it, then he would support her. He'd never told America this, but he knew that the other Nordics would stand by any decision that he made regarding Washington, and any nation with which they were allied would be very reluctant to go against them, no matter how strong or influential America was.

Out on the deck, Washington and Canada touched foreheads. Denmark couldn't hear what Canada was saying to her, but he felt a sudden surge of smugness knowing that although she and Canada had a long and deep relationship, she had given herself to Denmark first, and that was a precious gift. Certainly at the time, her relationship with Canada had been too much like a parent-child relationship, though that had changed in 1917. Denmark had enjoyed being her ‘only’ for a long time, but he could do nothing to stop her being intimate with a nation that obviously cared very deeply for her without formally claiming her, which would be seen as an act of aggression upon America, and no nation would dare do that to Alfred. But then Cascadia was born and everything changed.

It should have changed long before that, when Sve had gone to America nearly a year after her first visit to København, and had come back with the news that what he had suspected had been true, and the deception had begun. Denmark knew that nothing would ever be simple between himself and America again, especially since he was entertaining the idea of claiming one of the States as his...partner? Bride? How would it be called? It couldn't happen in reality, of course. After that she would no longer be an American state, and America wouldn't let one go without a serious fight, even the surly and gloomy Washington. That would not do at all. There could be no more violence about Cascadia. It had nearly caused a battle between America and Germany.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> America and Canada discuss America's relationship with Washington.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> All Along the Watchtower by Jimi Hendrix

In 1946, America had finally seen the boy and immediately went after Germany in fury before realizing his mistake--he still didn't know it was Prussia, but Oregon and Germany both insisted that Washington was telling the truth when she said Germany wasn't Cascadia's father. Then, when Russia tried to bully his way into Berlin, America had pledged to help Germany tear Russia a new asshole for encroaching on what wasn't his. And he had--he and Washington both had. Years later, after she had finally admitted to him about Prussia, Canada had declared responsibility for Cascadia and America had been enraged. He had demanded to know why his brother would choose to claim a son who clearly wasn't his, to which Canada coldly replied by reminding him that Washington's own father, Scotland, was also not her real father--as far as anyone knew, Russia was, but he had not wanted anything to do with her after experiencing the chilly damp that killed so cruelly.

“That is hardly the same thing,” America had retorted. “Ivan offered her to Britain. Obviously Gilbert has no idea the boy even exists!”

“And that's the way she wants it,” Canada replied firmly. “You should respect that, Al. But you’ve never respected anything about her, have you? All because she wasn't too happy about your backhanded deal with Arthur. You never should have forced him to include Allistor's land. She was happy with him. Or you could have given her to me! I would gladly have taken her. She's more comfortable with me, anyway.”

“No,” America said, sharply. “Why does everyone think I hate her? She's a surly little thing, and I can't stand her depressing atmosphere, but she's mine. You want to fuck her, fine. Bang her the livelong day; hell, maybe she can have fifty children with you, I don't give a fuck, but don't think for one minute that I'm happy about any of this.”

Canada’s violet eyes darkened. He didn't like hearing his brother cheapen the relationship he had with Washington. “If I decide to annex her?” he challenged, his voice betraying none of the seriousness of the situation.

A deadly silence fell as the brothers stared at each other, guns drawn and pointed. “You do that,” America said quietly, “and we’re no longer brothers.”

Canada sighed and lowered his gun. “Al, you didn't turn your back on her when she helped Ludwig take back Berlin after Ivan tried to steal it, and I know you won't do it now,” he began, “but don't push on her to let you decide about Nicholas. He's ours.”

“Matt, if Gil finds out that you've--”

“He'll be grateful that I took responsibility,” Canada said firmly. “Look, as much as she claims to hate Gilbert, we know it's not true. She wouldn't have taken action at Berlin against her own father if she really hated him.”

America had put his head in his hands. Not only that, but Russia’s early rejection of her had forever turned her against him. Washington did not let go of grudges. “She also knew damn well--we all did--that Ivan would not have stopped at just Berlin. He would have taken all of Germany before our bosses said enough was enough. It was just a worst-case scenario. Here he was, one of our supposed allies, overrunning my authority in my own sector. She was one of the first to call bullshit and when she went over my head I didn't know how to react at first. Sure I was pissed, but you know I'd never go against one of my own states. I don't hate Washington, Mattie. But she's contrary and sullen and a pain in the ass.” 

That time, Washington had not needed to separate them, and they parted ways amicably. Then, America had somehow found out that she possibly had other children, but when he confronted her on it she threatened to leave. He would not push her, though he said he doubted she'd make it on her own. However, she had given him a coldly calculating look, and it gave him a horrible shiver. It was the last time they would speak until her famous fight with Prussia. 


	10. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Washington comes to Germany's aid and challenges Russia. Russia makes a promise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter takes place in the late winter of 1946. Song: Ballade in C# Minor(Coronation)

Washington had always done things without asking, both as a territory of Scotland's and as an American state. Most of the time the things she did were self-serving, and America considered it to be more trouble to get involved than to just let her be, so he was always amazed when she actually came out swinging for the team. She had done more than her share during wartime, but after the war she didn't just get rid of the prejudice against Japanese. She added to it with Russians, and when she got wind of Russia's devious plan to infect all of Western Europe with Communism, by way of Berlin, she had not taken it as mere paranoia. So, even though it had only been nine months since the war ended, nine months since the Allies had fought against Germany, now they were coming together against someone else. The Americans stationed in the Western sector of the city had nearly been overrun, and America had nearly retreated just to avoid greater disaster when Washington's voice had crackled across the radio, announcing the arrival of her State Guard; five tanks, four planes, light infantry and one ‘special surprise’ , as she put it. Germany had felt her arrival on his soil, and he turned to see her approach with her forces at her back. As she hollered to him to move forward, the skies above them had roared to life with artillery and gunfire. He had been so relieved to see her that he had wept and kissed her in front of everyone, after which she had punched him and threatened to strangle him with his own tongue if he did that again. Fortunately for him, Oregon had not been present. And Prussia, as Russia’s prisoner, knew she had arrived in his city, but Ivan refused to allow him even a glimpse of her. Still, America had seen Germany kiss Washington and had undoubtedly noticed that it was not the action of someone who disliked the other. America had seen it and had noticed it but he would not say a word. After all, they had just stepped in and helped save Europe from the Commie bastard, who was most unpleasantly surprised.

The troops that had poured in were well-trained for urban warfare and quickly gained ground, so Russia had had to move fast. He had finally gotten the launchers ready to fire upon Germany’s unexpected and unknown allies--he did not recognize the flag they displayed--but before he could give the order to commence firing, a large single plane came in from the West. Faster than Ivan could blink, the Katyushas were in ruins. At first the only sound he heard was what could only be described as very large hailstones or pebbles striking packed soil. Then, there was a deep, deafening buzzing sound that made him cower, and he finally saw his onetime daughter watching smugly from the turret of one of her tanks, and he met her gaze in humiliation as Ludwig took back his brother.

“This isn't over,” Ivan had seethed.

“Yes, it is,” Ludwig had replied. And it had been, but only after the large plane made a final pass, this time taking out the entire Russian offensive line. Once again, the shells hit their targets so fast that the sound of the gun firing them came afterwards--a deafening ripping sound that rattled the Germans’ teeth, and that the Russians did not hear at all, because they were dead before they even knew what hit them. Kate had proudly announced to Alfred that the A-10 Thunderbolt would be the best thing ever since the machine gun. He was inclined to agree, and for the first time he hugged her in public, and for the first time, in public or private, she let him.

Germany , who knew exactly why Washington had helped him--it had certainly not been for America--could not tell Gilbert that the reason they were together and Berlin, and Germany, was once again theirs was because of their children. Washington gave America, as the ranking Allied commander, all the credit. But Prussia noticed the odd flags on the tanks and uniforms and was confused. These were Washington's people, therefore they were American; the flag looked like Scotland's, but with several things added to it. The same blue background and white X, but in the center of that X was a black raven; clenched in its talons were an axe and a sword. Behind the X stood a giant black fir tree. Prussia had to admit it looked pretty awesome. In fact, it was so awesome that he almost felt proud just looking at it. The sword looked like the one he had wielded as a Teutonic Knight, and he thought the axe looked exactly like Denmark's. Though he didn't know it, he was looking at what would one day be a flag. He had not spoken to her since she had struck him in front of the Brandenburg Gate, and his son, who he'd never even seen and had no idea existed, was just over a year old now, and already a toddler. He was growing fast because of the influx of German immigrants to the region, but at the time Prussia had no idea that he'd fathered a personification. He chalked the feeling of pulling up to nerves, and that was that.

Later he had gone with Germany to meet with the Americans and to send Russia packing for good, and he had fully expected to see America there, seated across the table from Russia. He was indeed present, but seated in the victor’s spot was Washington. She was wearing the greatcoat she'd worn three days before, on that triumphant day in Berlin, and he saw the same insignia on it that he had on the soldiers’ uniforms. Had her state flag changed? That wasn't the only thing he noticed: Russia's face was deathly pale. When Washington signed the paperwork and pushed it across to him, she smiled, and he twice dropped the pen before shakily scrawling his own signature. Prussia understood immediately. People often commented on Russia's own creepy smile, but this. ...This thing on Washington's face could not even be called a smile. None who saw it felt good about it, and everyone was relieved when the meeting ended. As the nations filed out, Russia was so eager to escape the gaze of his long-forsaken offspring that he was practically running, and he was in so much of a hurry that he wasn't paying attention to where she actually was. Thinking he had gotten away, he ran right into her.

“If you enter this city again--if you so much as sneeze in Germany's direction--I will kill you,” she said, simply. And then she turned to go, because if she had nothing else to say the conversation was clearly over. He found that to be so infuriating that he had to open his mouth.

“Maybe I will just tell Gilbert about his child, да?”

She was on him in a flash, and he gasped in surprise as a deep, horribly damp chill sank into him, making his bones ache. Barbed wire of misery tightened around his heart, and he was tempted to cut his own throat. Unable to stop himself, he moaned. The subzero cold of General Winter he could handle, but not this. Please, not this. “Tell him,” she warned, “and it will be the last thing you tell anyone. I will destroy you. You seem to forget that I can do that, _папа._ ” She pounded the word, making him flinch. He was very glad there were no witnesses to this. “You will not touch Gilbert again. And if you tell him, that's it. You're done. Try me, Ivan.” With that, she turned and walked away from him, and as the damp, aching chill faded--too slowly for his comfort--he watched her, and she did not look back at him to see the dark glint in his eyes.

“Всему свое время,” he replied, to which she did not even respond. Mistake, he thought smugly. She would regret this.

Someday.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Denmark and Scotland come back from "sailing" and realize that Washington saw what they were really up to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song: Mile End by Pulp

"That is the last time I let the two of you take Nick anywhere near water."

Scotland and Denmark sat quietly on the back deck, heads down, as Washington stalked back and forth behind them. They'd been sitting like that for the past hour while she upbraided them for being irresponsible bastards, and for never taking anything seriously. Denmark's mouth twitched, and Scotland shot him a warning look. The Dane was beginning to sweat with the strain of keeping his mouth shut, Scotland saw. 

Washington circled round and glared at them. While it was certainly better than having her lurking behind them, Denmark wished she didn't have to look at them as if she were dreaming of new ways to strangle them. "What's wrong with you two? Mathias, it really doesn't surprise me that you'd be part of a stunt like this, but papa, I'm surprised at you," she declared, and Scotland exhaled through his nose. "What the hell were you thinking?"

The pressure of being silent was finally too much for Denmark. "He had a blast, Kate! Look at him!"

"I saw him! I saw all three of you out there! You are the most insufferable hellions I have ever had the displeasure of knowing." She clenched her teeth. "You are damned lucky nothing happened."

Scotland opened his mouth to object to being called 'insufferable', but wisely closed it when he saw the look on her face. Denmark, on the other hand, was feeling much braver.

"He was perfectly safe the whole time, elskede. Min skat. You--"

She stopped before him and leaned into his face until their noses were nearly touching. "Waterskiing is not an appropriate sport for a child of that size," she said firmly. "On a lake, yes. That's okay. Even on a river, that's also perfectly safe. But _not_ ," she added, her voice rising to a shout, "on the _goddamned **motherfucking** **OCEAN!"**_ With each syllable her voice became louder until she was practically roaring, and by the time she finished, Denmark was nearly flat on his back. He could now see in the windows, and noticed Germany and Prussia watching the scene with poorly disguised amusement. 

"Are you listening to me, Mathias?"

"How can I not be listening to you? You're shrieking at me," Denmark retorted, but the minute it left his mouth, Scotland whistled and he knew: He'd fucked up.

"Cover your ears, lad," Scotland sighed, putting his hands to his own ears, "and pray."


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Norway arrives for Syttende Mai. America tries to get inside Washington's house. Tar Baby resists making friends. Denmark gets covered in cat hair. Washington reacts unexpectedly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song: Whale and Wasp by Alice in Chains

The next few days consisted of last minute activities and meet-ups with friends in various parts of the Seattle area. The day before Prussia and Germany were scheduled to return home, they somehow managed to convince Washington to let them take Cascadia to a Sounders game, although she had previously insisted that he should not be in the city without her or Canada there. But Canada had already returned to Vancouver, and despite Scotland's poor judgment with the waterskiing incident, he could have been there to supervise, but he had already gone home to Glasgow and she was unable to go with them because America had called to remind her that she had agreed to host Norway for Syttende Mai, and he would be arriving that afternoon. 

"I suppose _you're_ coming along?" Washington asked, snidely. She couldn't help it. America always found insidious little ways to butt in on her nice, peaceful solitude. It didn't matter what she had planned. He would even offer to join her if she had plans to go hiking on Mt. Terror if he had something important to discuss with her.

"Yeah! I know you don't like having guests, so I'll be staying with Mattie up in Victoria. Uh, wait. That's yours now, isn't it? Well, I'm staying with him, anyways. So we should be there in a few."

"A few what?" she asked, because she had learned long ago that one had to be very careful with America's vague jargon. "Hours, days, what?"

"Oh! We're already here, so I guess I'll just hang up now," America said, cheerfully. Washington closed her eyes, counting backwards from ten as she clenched her jaw. Calm, she told herself. There was no reason to explode in volcanic rage simply because America couldn't help being himself. She opened the door, letting Norway in, but stopped America on the threshold. 

"I have something I need to discuss with Norway, so maybe you should come back later, " she said, pointedly. 

"But--"

"Great, thanks for dropping him off. Bye!" She shut the door and made sure she locked it. America kicked the heavy door in indignation. Even with his strength, it didn't budge.

"Katie! C'mon. At least let me say hello to Oregon." 

"Oregon's not here," Washington replied, even though she was looking right at her. Oregon rolled her eyes, shaking her head. "Why don't you look for her at her own house?"

Now he was really exasperated. "I can see her through this little window, Katrina. Hey! Is that--"

"Denmark's not here either," Washington said through the mail slot. "You're imagining things. Better lay off the weed there, pops."

"Dammit, Katrina, if you--all right. Fine," he sighed. "Tomorrow I'll be here first. Thing. In the morning. And we are going into the city."

She didn't respond, and he finally left after it became apparent that she wouldn't. Oregon frowned at her.

"Why do you have to be like that? He was being perfectly reasonable," she pointed out. 

Washington raised an eyebrow. "You didn't catch what happened there? Since when have I ever invited him over here? The only way that he got here was because he talked Norway into letting him drive. Norway wouldn't be able to say no, and then he'd have to give directions. That infuriating sneak!"

"I think you're taking this way too seriously, " Oregon warned her. "You know how he can get when we provoke him. Don't be a bitch tomorrow, or he might invite Idaho to join us."

Washington snarled. "I'll kill him if he pulls that shit on me!" She made a mental note to drag everyone in the house along with her tomorrow. There was no way in hell that she was going to make poor Norway suffer alone.

Fucking great. Now America not only knew where she lived, but she was also damned to spend the day with him in Seattle. If it had been only Norway, she wouldn't even have invited Denmark along. She and Norway had been friends for over a century, though nobody would believe it if they heard about it. 

Washington noticed a cage with Norway's luggage.

A meowing cage.

"You have a cat?" She called, and Norway came through from the kitchen. He had a bottle of beer in his hand. Washington hoped it wasn't her Cannabeer. She'd forgotten about Norway's sensitivity to weed.

"Yes. I heard that you have a talking cat," Norway replied. "I asked America which breeds of cats are favored by Americans, and he suggested a Ragdoll. I think a friendly cat would be more appropriate for a talking pet than that foul mouthed puffin. It's for Iceland," he added. "Iceland has always wanted something from America."

"Well...you see, about my cat," Washington began, but then she remembered the fight video and changed her mind. "He'd love to meet your kitty! Here, go ahead and let him out, and I'll go find Tar Baby." Oregon's mouth snapped shut and she struggled not to bust out laughing. "Oregon, go get some salmon for the kitty, huh?"

"What's up?" Denmark asked, looking over at the cage. "Oh, you got a cat! Here, I'll get him. Hey, kitty. Awww," he laughed. "He's so cute! Let him out, Norge."

"I am just now," Norway muttered as he opened the cage. The fluffy cat inched forward, looking around cautiously. From another room came a loud, strident protest.

"No! Kate, don't you dare bring me in there with that fucking cat! Let me go! Right! Now!" Washington emerged from the hallway, herding Tar Baby while holding him on a leash. She told Oregon to close all the doors as she unclipped the harness, and Tar Baby fixed a glare onto the invader.

"Fuck youuuu," he hissed. 

"Aw, Tar Baby, isn't he adorable?" Denmark insisted.

"No! Diiiieeeee," Tar Baby growled at the intruder. He widened his eyes in threat. "Im'a kill yoouuu..."

Washington had had enough. "Tar Baby! Get outta here," she snapped, and let him flee back to the mud room. "Sorry about that," she shrugged. Norway blinked. 

"Whatever. Did you teach him to talk?" he asked, as Denmark played with the cat, getting hair all over his black shirt. "Dane, you shouldn't put your face on him like that. You'll piss him off." He took a short drink of beer and scoffed. "I know I would hate it if you stuck your fucking face on my stomach."

"Oh, Norge's just being a grumpy face," Denmark cooed to the cat, who was now curled up in his arms. "Such pretty blue eyes you have, yes you do."

Washington and Norway looked at him.

"Oh, now where did Tar Baby storm off to?" Denmark wondered. "Well, we're just going to have to find him, won't we?"

"Uh, Denmark, wait," Oregon began, but both Washington and Norway stopped her, shaking their heads. "Oh. Uh, never mind," she added.

The door began to shake with the repeated thuds of Cascadia's fists. Washington let the trio inside, and Cascadia began crowing about the awesome game and how the Sounders had beat the everloving shit out of Portland (again). Washington looked pointedly at Germany, glaring. Prussia was undoubtedly the louder of the two, but when it came to football, Germany's passion was second to none. The creative expletives that issued forth during matches were the stuff of legend. Prussia noticed the annoyance on her face and quickly shoved a Starbucks cup into her hands.

"Here, I saw this new drink they have and I just knew you would like it. Try it," he urged. She looked at him suspiciously, but took a drink. Her eyebrows shot up in surprise, and she promptly drained the rest of it. Prussia gloated at his success. "It's the Ultra Chocolate Lava Mochamallowccino," he said, proudly. 

"I never heard of a new drink like that," Washington remarked, lifting the cup and studying it as if it could give her some sort of an explanation. 

"Well, actually, I made it up," Prussia admitted as Cascadia finally noticed Norway. 

"Who are you?" he asked, bluntly. The Nordic nation regarded him in silent approval. 

"Norge," he replied, and Cascadia nodded once, as if he had suspected the answer. 

"I'm Cascadia," the boy informed him. "Are you here to see Onkel Mathias?"

"No," Norway said. "I've come to see your mother for Syttende Mai, and that just happens to be an unfortunate bonus."

"Well, I guess that's understandable, since Onkel Mathias can be a fucking ass sometimes," Cascadia said, and Washington spit out her mouthful of coffee in a violent spray.

Germany and Prussia escaped to the kitchen, desperately trying to avoid the eventual lecture from Kate about Cascadia's newfound treasury of foul language, which the boy had already picked up from the colorful vocabulary used by Tar Baby but for which they would undoubtedly be blamed. At that moment, Denmark returned with both cats in his arms.

"Let's try this again, huh?" he said, cheerfully. 

"Put me down, Viking Bastard!" Tar Baby yelled.

"Aww, c'mon," Denmark said. "Be friends!" But as he brought the cats together, both of them erupted into yowling, spitting blurs of teeth and claws. Denmark dropped the cats, badly scratched. Cascadia took one step towards him, intending to ask him if he was all right, when Washington made a sudden choking noise. When she dropped her coffee, he whipped his head around and stared at her. Across the room, Oregon also stared at her sister in amazement. 

Washington stood stock-still, but she was beginning to tremble. Squeezing her eyes shut, she gasped, tears streaming down her face. Wheezing, she tried to catch her breath, and finally she embraced herself and began to laugh helplessly.

"I'm scared," Cascadia exclaimed, reaching out and latching onto Norway. Washington stood there, roaring with laughter as tears streamed down her face. She opened her eyes and looked over at Denmark, who was covered in cat hair and scratches, and began to wheeze again. 

"Your face," she howled.

"What's that noise she's making?" Cascadia cried, somehow managing to climb into Norway's arms. The Nordic nation stood there in surprise, wondering when exactly it had happened. 

"Your mother is laughing," he said, appreciating the rarity of the situation. "The sight of Denmark covered in cat hair is amusing."

"My mom doesn't laugh," Cascadia proclaimed. "She hardly even smiles. She's kinda like you. Aunt Daria! Make it stop!"

Oregon cleared her throat. "Warshington," she said clearly. 

A pin dropped. 

"The fuck you just call me?"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Syttende Mai is the Norwegian Constitution Day, and it is celebrated in Seattle. The state of Washington has a significant population of Scandinavians, most living in the Seattle area and on the southern coast.


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Norway and Germany take a smoke break. Something wicked this way comes.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song: Stagger by The Sight Below

Looking back on it, Norway would say much later that the first indication of trouble came to him that night, as he smoked one of Washington's clove cigarettes on the back deck. He had not smoked in years, but he liked cloves, and they were sometimes hard to come by. Some places didn't even sell them. 

The first time Washington had invited him to her house, he had been amazed at the night sky. She sometimes had the Northern Lights, but they were usually seen only in the winter. She lived far enough from civilization for the stars to be visible by the billions, not just the bright ones. It was this that took his breath away. There was darkness and silence and stillness (Washington had explained that the two were similar concepts, but two distinct things) and it felt like home. He was glad so many of his citizens had come here. It made being away from home much easier.

Somewhere, just beyond the trees, his companion, Troll, roamed. Norway, like other magic users, had a familiar--he had Troll; England had Flying Mint Bunny; Romania had his Owl...and Washington had Tar Baby. She would probably never admit to anyone else that Tar Baby was anything other than a cat who happened to be gifted with speech. 

He had never seen Washington use magic, but he knew she did. As a magic wielder, he could sense the energy fields of other magical beings. Washington wasn't the only one of America's children to have the ability, but she was the only one who consistently denied it even as she cast her grey aura around her, cutting off sunlight and warmth even on a clear summer day. Romania was a frequent user of black magic, and it didn't frighten Norway, but there was something about Washington in general that made him want to curl up under fifty blankets with a shitty, tragic romance novel and a bottle of cheap, disgusting vodka, the kind that tasted like gasoline. 

He glanced up when he heard the door closing, and saw Germany. The other nation lit a cigarette, surprising Norway. "I thought you quit."

Germany shook the match out. "I did," he mumbled around his smoke. "Then this happened."

Norway frowned. At supper, Prussia and Cascadia had taken turns filling him in about the first time they saw each other. "I do not understand why she chose to hide Prussia's son from him. You and Denmark both have children with her. Don't look so guilty; I've met him before." He hadn't known, until today, that the boy who sometimes came to stay with Sve and Fin was Washington's son. He had assumed that Denmark had knocked up someone and was being responsible, but never in his wildest imagination would he ever have thought it would be one of America's states. Everyone knew that they were off-limits to nations in that way. The nations could befriend them, and even date them (with America's approval), but never ever have children with them. The mere suggestion of it was enough for America to go on a rampage. Yet he seemed oddly relaxed about the whole thing. During the car trip from the airport he had told Norway all about Cascadia, but he hadn't said a word about the other two and Norway doubted that he even knew about them.

Germany exhaled quietly. "Something that happened during the war," he explained. Norway couldn't see his face, but the ember of the cigarette briefly illuminated his mouth, which was slightly downturned on one side. "She saw that the soldiers America and England had captured in Berlin were old men and...children."

"Well, for someone who never faced that kind of situation, it would be shocking," Norway said, and felt himself shudder. Though it was the middle of May, nightfall still brought a chill to the air, and he was glad he wore his coat. He pulled it tighter around him and smoked his clove in silence. Suddenly, somewhere in the distance, a wolf howled. 

Frowning, he sat forward, staring intently into the dark. "Troll, gå på speidling," he commanded. Beside him, Germany stubbed out his spent cigarette and reached for another.

"That's odd," he remarked. "I didn't know Washington had wolves in this part of her state."

"She doesn't," Norway muttered, causing Germany to flinch. "That's no wolf. It..." He shouldered again. "I don't know what it is. Luckily, it seems to be far away. Are you and Prussia leaving tomorrow?"

"Ja, tomorrow evening," Germany replied. "Prussia wanted to take the latest flight possible so he could spend the most time with Cascadia." He glanced over his shoulder and sighed. "This is more difficult than I thought it would be. Oregon has been aware of Cascadia since before he was born, but she does not know about Columbia. And I do not know how to tell her."

"Hm," Norway murmured. "Was she ever aware of your affair with her sister?"

Germany looked up. "Oh, it wasn't like that! Oregon and I weren't really dating at that time, and it wasn't as if Washington and I were planning to either. It wasn't like we had a meaningful relationship. We noticed each other, had a mutual attraction, and thought that it would be a good idea."

"Tyskland, I remember other times when you thought something was a good idea, only for it to be a very bad idea indeed," Norway reminded him. Troll had returned, and he swirled around them briefly before fading into the mist. Norway looked again at the trees and shivered again. Whatever it was, the thing in the dark was extremely unpleasant. Troll had been unable to see a definitive creature, but something was indeed out there. Although it was no closer than before, it was also no further. "We should go inside."

"What are you two doing out here?"

Germany turned quickly, hiding his cigarette. As he extinguished it in his fingers, she merely gave him a knowing look. "Nothing," he said.

"Whatever. Look, I know neither of you probably have any idea what I'm talking about," Washington began, "but do you feel...that?"

Norway felt his stomach drop. "Feel what?" he asked, calmly. She looked at him with a small shiver.

"That...crawling," she tried to explain. "Like...like you're tied up, and there's a spider on your face."

Not wanting to alarm her, Norway shot Germany a warning glare when he opened his mouth. "It is probably just the stress of your situation finally becoming resolved," he offered. "It is a relief, after all these years."

"I suppose, but..." Washington bit down on her lip. "It doesn't feel like relief. It feels like dread."

Before Norway could stop him, Germany spoke. "Ja, I feel that also," he said. "But I think maybe it's due to Oregon being here, and we have not told her about our son. He stays with Canada when Oregon comes here," he told Norway. "And Denmark's son goes to stay with Finnland and Schweden."

"Ja, I've met him," Norway said. "I'm sure Cascadia misses his brothers when they are away."

Washington stared into the darkness, her brow furrowing. "Well, anyway--Karsten is on the telephone, Ludwig. You better make it quick. It's past bedtime."

"Columbia?" Norway wondered, as the door closed behind Germany. Washington nodded.

"Norway," she began, her voice low, "I know you feel it. That thing out there."

"Yes," he replied, and she wrapped her arms around herself despite her sweater. Norway removed his coat and folded it around her, and she shot him a grateful look. 

Just as they turned back to look out at the trees, Denmark burst through the door, spoiling the moment.

"Hey, what are you doing out here in the dark, Kate? Norge, what's she doing with your coat? I'm not interrupting anything, am I?" he asked, narrowing his eyes in suspicion. 

"Yes, you are," Washington said, sharply. "We were just talking about a _thing_ that's lurking somewhere out there, and it's nothing good! Why don't you go be suspicious with Tar Baby," she added, unable to stop herself being annoyed with him. "You're usually better at reading the atmosphere, Mathias."

Norway coughed. 

"Hey, now," Denmark exclaimed. "I'm sorry, elskede. It's just that Norway never told me that he knew you this well. I mean, I'm not surprised, because you both like to pretend that you have no feelings, but you guys didn't have to hide it."

"Nobody was hiding anything," Washington told him. "It would eventually have come up. Did you just come out here to be jealous and awkward?"

He shook his head. "No, Prussia and Cascadia are trying to get Tar Baby to teach Marshmallow to talk."

Washington groaned. "Ugh! Why isn't Nicholas in bed?" She quickly excused herself and left the two on the deck. 

After a beat of silence Denmark cleared his throat. "Hvad er der derude, tror du?"

"Jeg ved det ikke," Norway said, softly, "men det kommer, og vi kan ikke stoppe det."


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a kettle is filled with trouble and set on the burner

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song: Moonbathing by Sky Cries Mary

True to his word, America arrived back at Washington's house almost as soon as everyone was awake and dressed. Because Washington was still unwilling to let him come inside, Oregon stood on the front deck with him while everyone else got ready. Washington was the last one out of the house, and Oregon saw that she looked extremely annoyed. It was easy to see that she hadn't had any coffee yet.

"Looks like you're driving," Washington snapped, giving America a heated glare. "Because I'm fucking not." She threw herself into the rear corner seat, wedging herself tightly between the door and Denmark. "Also, nobody fucking talk to me until I get some coffee."

"Mama's always like this," Cascadia told Norway, helpfully.

"Just how long is this drive going to be?" Norway wondered.

Washington glared at him around Denmark's shoulder. "Why? Would you rather walk?"

"Vati," Cascadia began. Prussia turned around in his seat and looked at him.

"No," Washington interrupted. "And that's final."

Norway watched her carefully. He knew about her coffee requirements and it was one of the reasons they got along so well. He completely understood the need for morning caffeine, and would not even be surprised if she stabbed someone before she finally got what she needed. The ride into Seattle passed in terrified silence, and the minute America stopped the car, Washington was leaping out. She yanked open the middle door and pulled Prussia out of his seat.

"Get me one of those Chocolate Lava whatevers," she ordered. "Nicholas, stay with Aunt Daria." She pulled on Prussia's arm when he didn't immediately start walking with her. "Come on."

As they started down the sidewalk, Prussia glanced back at their little group. "What about Denmark?" he wondered. 

Her teeth clenched, Washington pulled him firmly towards her so she could speak clearly in his ear. "Until I have my coffee, Denmark can go to hell. In fact, all of you can go there together. So unless you want this day to be exceedingly unpleasant, you'll get me that fucking awesome drink so that we can be friends again."

He put his hands out in supplication. "Okay, okay. Look, there's a Starbucks over there." He frowned as he caught a brief glimpse of familiar pale hair. Could it be...? he wondered. No, probably not, he told himself. It was either his imagination or someone else entirely. Had to be. That horrible feeling in the pit of his stomach was just because Washington needed her coffee. He kept his eyes on the door while they were inside the coffee shop, but he didn't see the person again. As they walked out, he felt immensely relieved. He wasn't scared of anyone, except maybe Washington when she hadn't had that first cup of coffee. She was already feeling better, he saw. She put her arm through his and beamed at him. As they approached the group, he could hear America on the phone with someone, and he sounded upset. He glanced around at them and covered the handset. "Sorry," he said, embarrassed. "It's my papa."

Norway turned and watched America curiously. Sve was America's father, and due to England's meddling the two of them had never had a particularly close relationship until quite recently. But a few Christmases ago Denmark had gotten the idea that America needed to spend time with someone during the holidays for a change, especially after hearing that he was rarely invited to England's place or even Canada's. So he'd gotten all the Nordics to come over to America's place, and during an emotional conversation with Finland, America had slipped into Finnish, much to everyone's surprise. This proved to be the first step in reconciliation, and they were closer than ever now. What could they be discussing that America found so distressing?

Cascadia pressed himself against Norway. "Mama, can I show Norge the Space Needle?" he pleaded. "Please." He started to climb again, and once more Norway found himself with a child in his arms. How did this kid keep doing that? he wondered. 

"We're all going to the Space Needle," Washington told him. She knew he had been there yesterday with Germany and Prussia, so she wasn't worried that he would get lost. But she didn't want to let him out of her sight until they got home. 

"Hey," Oregon patted her arm. "What's up with him?" She nodded towards Prussia, who was deep in a serious-looking conversation with Germany. "Did something happen when you went to get coffee?"

Grimacing, Washington watched them for a moment, then shrugged and turned back to Oregon. "Not that I know of. Nicholas, don't. Norway is not a jungle gym," she scolded as Cascadia tried to perch on Norway's shoulders. "You are too big to be doing that."

Cascadia pouted. "But I can't see anything," he complained. "Everyone is taller than me."

"No," Oregon corrected him. "Look...that midget isn't taller than you."

Washington scoffed. "Jesus, Oregon. The term is 'little person'."

Oregon scoffed right back, flipping her hair. "The word 'little' is so demeaning," she replied. 

"Then how about vertically challenged?" Washington finally had her caffeine fix properly, and she could now tolerate Denmark. They walked slightly ahead of the rest, glancing back every so often to make sure Cascadia was still with Norway. The Nordic was able to handle Cascadia sitting on his shoulders surprisingly well. In fact, everyone was having a good time, even America, who didn't seem interested in talking about his phone call. He, Denmark and Prussia finally wandered off together, leaving Washington to stare after them, her lips slightly pursed.

"I hope they get lost," she declared after a moment, and Cascadia scolded her.

"Mama," he said. "That's mean." Then before he could say anything else, he spotted something across the street and began to bounce, much to Norway's dismay. 

"Mama! Can I go with Aunt Daria?" He pointed strenuously, jabbing his finger in the direction of the massive toy store. FAO Schwartz was one of the places Oregon always took him. "Pleeeeeeeeeeeee-eeeeeee...."

"Stop that! Yes, damn it, and don't ever make that noise again," Washington snapped. As Cascadia scrambled to the ground, Norway's body sang in relief. He was a former Viking and still incredibly strong, but gods, that kid was solid. Cascadia made to drag Oregon away, but Germany stopped him.

"Wait a minute," he began, firmly. "You're forgetting." 

"Oh!" Cascadia turned, tugging on his mother's hand so she would bend down. "Thank you," he said. He kissed her cheek. "I promise I'll be good."

"No more toys," Washington reminded him. "You and...you have more than enough already," she corrected herself. Oregon didn't seem to notice. "Be back in time for lunch." She waited until Oregon was out of earshot and asked Germany, "Did Karsten tell you about learning to shoot?"

"Yes, he did," Germany replied, and they began discussing whether it might be a little soon for that sort of thing. Neither Washington nor Germany noticed the tall blond man who waited until Oregon and Cascadia had gone into the toy store before following them. Norway turned to mention it, but before he could say a word, the self-proclaimed Awesome Trio returned, distracting him. Denmark was proudly displaying a fresh tattoo. 

"See? It's the Olympic Mountains in the background of the Space Needle," he said. 

Frowning, Norway looked at his watch. "But you were only gone for a half hour," he mused. "How did you get that done so quickly?"

"Oh," Denmark said, "this guy's world famous for speed work. Get this," he added, "his fastest time doing ink is fifty-three seconds. He did an Eiffel tower."

Germany looked at Prussia. "Do you have a new tattoo?" he asked, already knowing the answer. The three of them always did things as a trio. 

"Ja, look," Prussia said proudly and lifted his shirt. "It's a volcano, the highest in the entire Northwest," he said. 

Washington narrowed her eyes at America. "What about you?" she demanded. "C'mon, show us."

To her surprise, America seemed quite uncomfortable with showing her his arm, and for a good reason. "Well, it's not like theirs," he began as an excuse. She frowned at him and he reluctantly pushed his sleeve up. Washington stared at the offending tattoo in silence.

"It says--"

"I know what it says," she interrupted. "Well, you're stuck with it forever." She turned to Norway and was about to say something else when she jumped as though she had been stung. Unable to speak for a moment, she tried to figure out what was wrong. She noticed Prussia and Germany looking around in suspicion. 

"Is everything all right?" Norway asked, calmly. 

"Huh," Washington murmured after a few moments. "Yeah, I guess so." She shuddered, though, and wished Oregon would hurry up inside the toy store. She watched the door intently until she saw them emerge, but her relief turned to panic when she realized that Oregon was running towards them, carrying Cascadia, who simply looked bored and annoyed. 

"We need to leave," Oregon declared. 

"What? Why?" America demanded.

"Washington, Russia is here," Oregon's face was set in a panicked expression of dread. "We have to leave before he sees us."

Cold fury seared through Washington's heart as she looked at America. He looked back at her, nervousness evident in the way he rubbed the back of his neck. "Here I was, actually having a nice, peaceful time," she said, softly. "Then you had to come back and spoil it."

America was shocked. "What? No. I didn't even know he was here, Kate. Well, fine. If you feel better about it, we'll leave, okay?" He noticed the way everyone surrounded Cascadia, as if shielding him from Russia's gaze. Norway hoped they would get into the car without being seen. Somehow, they managed, but as they were driving out of the city, America's mobile rang. They all knew by the ringtone who was calling.

"Don't you dare answer it," Washington warned him. "I don't care what you're planning on telling him. Tell him when you get back home. I don't want him finding out where I live!"

The phone finally stopped ringing, and although they weren't followed by anyone to the house, America took several detours to get there, just in case. For once, Washington was grateful for his superior driving skills. As long as nothing happened to Cascadia, he could drive a hundred miles an hour.

"Mama," Cascadia began, tugging gently at her arm, "why is Mr. Russia bad?"

Because he insists on calling me a whore, Washington wanted to say. But she didn't. Instead she informed him, "Russia likes to steal things that he says are his, but really they aren't." Cascadia nodded his head in understanding, but she could see that he really didn't understand. 

"Don't worry, Mama. I know better than to talk to someone that I don't know," he assured her. "And Tar Baby won't let anyone creepy into the house!"

Oh, son, she thought to herself. If only it was that easy for us to banish him away. I would have done it long before your brothers and you were ever born. But it wasn't. And the emotional blood was everywhere. 


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song: About You by Æther×Pensees

Finally. Finally, peace and quiet. 

Washington stood on her back deck, enjoying the darkness and the light rain that had come with it. It was the first time in nearly two weeks that she'd had any significant quiet time, thanks to an unnerving amount of houseguests.

Having company had always been disruptive for her, and in all the worst ways. Nations like Germany and Norway, the latter of whom was still here, weren't bothersome at all, but there came a point when just the knowledge of another presence was too stressful. And it went without saying that there were certain nations that would never be welcome in her house. Some of her own siblings had never been invited, either. Most of the East Coast, particularly the New England Gang, could fuck right off. A few of these had even mistaken her for part of Canada, and that was fine with her.

Peace and quiet, but only without. 

Cascadia had stayed up long past his bedtime, insisting that they go with Germany and Prussia to the airport. The last thing Washington had wanted to do was actually see them off, but Cascadia had latched onto Norway again and climbed nearly to the ceiling, and when Norway looked at her, she could see the threat in his eyes. If she didn't relent and allow the boy his wish, then Washington would be making a most unpleasant discovery when she got into bed. Or something could happen to her morning coffee. Her choice.

So they had gone to the airport and had said the long goodbye, but because Oregon had been right there, it had been incredibly awkward. The way she had watched Washington interact with Germany was a bit annoying, and Washington found herself fighting the urge to stuff Oregon into a cargo hold and send her far away. That wasn't something that happened often, because Oregon was very much aware of all her idiosyncratic quirks and her unstable moods, so she was better able to read the atmosphere around Washington than perhaps anyone, not including Canada. She should know better than to be suspicious of Washington's current relationship with Germany. Maybe she didn't know about their son, but Columbia was older than Cascadia, and the situation was not new. Oregon's relationship with Germany had not begun in earnest until after he had been born. Oregon should have known that Washington wasn't interested in Germany in a romantic way. She never had been and it was obvious. 

That also meant Oregon should have known better than to think she could get away with lying to her own sister.

Cascadia had gone to bed straight after Oregon had departed for her home in Eugene, and had pestered Norway for Troll to tell him a bedtime story. "Make it a scary one," he insisted, and Norway, unable to resist, had brought Troll into the boy's bedroom. Tar Baby, who slept with Cascadia during Denmark's visits, thought nothing of it until Troll proceeded to tell a bedtime story so terrifying that Cascadia lay in bed shivering for hours afterwards. Tar Baby began to complain loudly, and after he fled the room to seek solace with Berserkr and Marshmallow, Washington had finally gone into his room to see what the matter was.

Cascadia held the blanket to his face. "I'm not scared," he insisted. "It's only a story." But he peeked in fright out his window to make sure. He sighed in relief. "Good. The stars are still there. Mama," he added, just before Washington could leave the room. "What's a whore?"

"Nicholas! Who taught you that word?" Washington stood at the foot of his bed and stared at him in disbelief. The boy fidgeted for a moment and then met her eyes.

"Today when Aunt Daria took me to the store. That man said," he began, and paused, because he was trying to remember exactly what the man had said. "He said that soon you will find out what hum...humili...ation is, because you're a whore."

She came around the side of the bed and dropped to her knees, leaning close to him. "Who said that? He said that to you?"

"I don't know. He was looking at me, but it felt like he was talking to Aunt Daria," Cascadia said. "He talked funny. He didn't say hello." He looked up at his mother with scared eyes. "He said priv...priv..."

"Privjet," Washington whispered. Cascadia nodded, his throat clicking as he gulped back tears. "Is that what he said?" 

"Mama!" Cascadia had exclaimed. "You're tearing my narwhal in half!"

Washington had looked down at the stuffed animal in her hands. Quickly she dropped it, and put her arms around Cascadia. But she had found herself utterly unable to say anything else, because it would have meant lying to him--it was not all right, and she was not sorry about the narwhal, since it was just a stuffed animal and not even Cascadia's favourite. She had hugged him and pleaded with him to get some sleep, and that had been hours ago now and she knew he was asleep but she definitely wasn't tired.

Washington stood on her deck and stared out at the night and wondered why Oregon had not told her that Russia had actually spoken to her. Oregon knew damn well that she would want to know everything about something that important. She knew that Washington didn't want Russia anywhere near her son. It was bad enough that Russia even knew about Cascadia in the first place. Everyone was aware of the dangers of Russia knowing anything about anyone's family. And Oregon was one of the few people Washington trusted around Cascadia. So then why would she allow Russia within speaking distance of them? It made no sense. Everything about it just seemed wrong.

Why had she lied?

Her solitude was destroyed by Denmark's arrival outside. For once, though, he was quiet. When he joined her on the deck, she was grateful for his silence. Ordinarily she would have been wary, because a quiet Denmark could be a Denmark up to no good, but not this time. He stood at her side and waited patiently for her to say what was on her mind.

"She lied to me," Washington sighed, finally unable to stand it. "But I don't know why."

He looked at her, deep in thought.

"It doesn't make sense," she continued. "Telling me about Russia actually talking to her would have been better than having to worry about it now. I'd still be worried, yeah. But now I'm wondering. ...No. No, I don't think Oregon is hiding anything else, but..."

"Norge doesn't trust her," Denmark said, and she turned to him in surprise. "I thought you knew that. He's never really trusted her. I think maybe because she was England's."

Frustrated, she turned away, unwilling to consider any possible deception by her closest sibling. "Why are you still here?" she demanded finally. "Don't you have things to do at home?"

Unperturbed, he nodded. "Yes, but I came here to spend time with you, and Norge has invited me to the festival tomorrow. Oh, and I have something to ask you."

"No," she replied, before he could finish. 

He let out a huff. "Oh, come on. I haven't even said."

She leaned on the railing. "Well, you came out here being all quiet and sneaky like, and that's never a good thing," she pointed out. Fuck, now she couldn't stop wondering what everyone else might be hiding from her. "Preemptive answer."

"Well, it's the wrong answer, because I want you to come to Denmark with me," he told her. "I've already talked to Canada and he said that he will come over here and take care of Cascadia and Columbia. Then you can bring Jens back with you. He loves Fin and Sve, but I know he hates being away from home." He threw an arm around her shoulders. "It's been years since you went on a real vacation, so I have to insist, Kate. I've already arranged everything. We leave next week."

Her brow furrowed. "But that means I'll be on an airplane. With you. For nine hours."

"Yeah!"

"Fuck my life."


	16. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Russia has thoughts and is consumed by the memory of his former little colony.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song: Alchemy by Johnny Hollow

He hated her. 

Mere words did not even touch the depths of his hatred for her.

From the very beginning she had been difficult, although it had not been obvious from looking at her. He had thought her beautiful, in a way similar to his own younger sister: At first glance, you were instantly aware of the physical beauty and it pulled you in.

Then you actually _were_ in, and you were _trapped_. 

Yet even before she showed her true nature, he had felt the whispering footsteps of approaching doom. Had felt them and dismissed them. 

He would _never_ make that mistake again. 

Months passed between his visits to his little fledgling colony, but he heard from them regularly until the winter, and although it was not unusual for a delay in communication during stressful times, there was no accounting for the tickle of dread he was beginning to feel.

At first it was sporadic, and faint. It was easy to ignore until it was impossible to dismiss. Because of the foul weather, he could not travel, so he was forced to wait until spring. By this time, he not only felt physically ill, but he could no longer feel his people in the little colony. Could still feel _her_ , but not them.

In panic, he collected his little sister, unwilling to leave her alone, and started the voyage to New Russia. His older sister tried to reassure him that things were probably fine, that diseases and famine were common in new colonies, but the people were strong. They had survived the worst of Russia and they could survive this. 

He wanted to believe her.

The voyage took longer than usual, because there was a violent storm tearing down the coast. And when he came within sight of the land, for the first time, it felt dark and menacing, and not because of the storm. The storm was bad enough. Twice his ship nearly capsized, and as he entered the mouth of the bay he ran aground. That took _another_ two days, but he finally set foot on dry land.

It was very still.

The last time he had been there, the air had been full of the sounds of a bustling, lively village. Full of hope and enterprise. He had been proud of it and them.

Now, though, it was completely silent.

A chill ran all the way up his body. He saw the familiar flash of red that identified his colony, and gently pushed little Belarus forward. 

"Go and introduce yourself to her," he prompted. "You may play together."

Belarus resisted. "Her hair is red," she frowned. 

"Many have red hair," he reminded her.

"Not _that_ red," she insisted. "That's like _blood_. She looks _wrong_ , big brother."

"Just go," he urged. "And be _nice_ to her, sestra. No stabbings." He watched as she made her way over to his colony and turned towards the road to the village. It was slightly overgrown, as if nobody had traveled to or from for months. The closer he got to the village, the worse the silence became. At the first glimpse of the buildings, the silence suddenly became menacing. 

The village was deserted. 

He remembered that a similar thing had recently happened in England's colony, America. An entire settlement had simply vanished into thin air. Despite questioning and bribery, nothing would get England's little colony, America, to tell anyone what he had seen. _It must have been horrible,_ Russia thought as he pushed open the door of the nearest house. _It--_

He stared.

His vision became pitched, and things looked both very close and very far away at once. In horror he turned and stumbled out of the house, vomiting so hard that he nearly fell to his knees. Grasping the pillar on the front of the house, he struggled to stand up. When he caught his breath, he made his way to the next house, but it was the same there, too. 

In desperation he dashed through the village and into each house; running to the next, and the next, and the next. At each house it was the same.

They were all dead.

So much _death_.

Russia stood in the doorway of the largest house, the one that he always stayed in when he visited. The wealthy family that had lived here were now scattered about the house in various stages of decomposition. They had not, he realized in horror, all died at the same time. There were no signs of hostilities, and no telltale signs of pestilence, yet everyone in the settlement was dead. Even the healthiest young adults had been reduced to corpses. Some were emaciated, while others had some signs of malnutrition. Had they starved? He had overseen the plantings of their food gardens himself. How could this have happened? Had there not been enough?

His stomach gave a great, unpleasant lurch. He had seen much tragedy in his long existence, and had been the cause of others' tragedies, but he had _never_ been inflicted with one like this.

What had happened?

Suddenly he remembered his sister.

"Natalya," he called, stepping outside. She did not answer. "Sestra." He looked around quickly but could not see her, and he began to feel frantic. _"Natalya!"_

There. Faintly, he could hear her voice, so he followed it and when he couldn't hear her anymore, he began to panic. What if she had fallen into the sea? Belarus was unable to swim. She'd be terrified. Sure enough, he heard a faint splashing sound as he approached the cliff. He rushed to look down, but instead of Belarus, the little red-haired girl was sitting there, dangling her legs into the sea. She looked as serene as a little bird, swinging her legs as children do, but he realized with horror that it wasn't what was causing the splashing. She turned her head and saw him, as if she had been expecting him. He saw with a morbid kind of fascination that she had grown even more beautiful than the last time he had seen her; as much as he hated to admit it, she would be quite stunning when she grew up. She looked as though she were merely sitting there enjoying the loveliness of the day as she calmly held Belarus' head beneath the water. His little sister's struggles were becoming weaker, but each time she fought, the red-haired girl pushed her further down.

"What are you doing, you little monster?" he roared, but as he started down the embankment, she gave him a threatening look, and the earth began to give way beneath him, forcing him to stop. "Let her go!"

She stared at him a moment longer, then finally released Belarus with a derisive sniff. As he reached her, she deliberately stepped away from him, but he didn't even look at her. He snatched Belarus out of the water. She was still and grey, and she didn't move. Russia cringed at the dark tendrils that emanated like an aura from the young colony. "What have you done?"

"She wouldn't stop trying to stab me," the red girl replied. "I warned her, but she didn't listen."

"You can't _kill_ her, you little fool," Russia said. "But what about my village? Why did you do that to them. It was _you,_ wasn't it?"

She blinked and looked at him. Russia flinched. There was absolutely nothing in her gaze to indicate that she felt anything at all. "I just wanted to see what would happen," she shrugged. "It was very interesting."

"You are _insane,"_ Russia hissed. "Go away from us."

Her serenity was gone in a flash. As her face twisted in rage, a low rumbling began somewhere deep within the earth. Russia felt himself go tight and cold inside, and his bones began to ache. "No, _you_ go away," she ordered, her voice low and threatening. It seemed to invade his ears and pierce his brain with those black tendrils. Above them, the rock face of the cliff began to crack. "This is _mine!_ Go away before what happened to your mother happens to _you!"_

 _ **"What** did you say?"_ Russia shouted.

"I'll _bury_ you beneath this cliff," she roared as part of the cliff fell into the ocean. "You are running out of time. I'll make myself strong," she swore. _"I'll **ruin** you!"_

It was the final straw. Three months later, he had given her to Scotland. And for the next two hundred years he waited for her to fail, but she actually _thrived_ in Scotland's care, surpassing even England's territory, her sister Oregon. She had received a name, and was now known as Washington. Danes began settling her lands. When America adopted her, she grew even stronger. Swedes, Norwegians and Finns came to settle, along with Germans, Scots and Irish.

She continued to grow.

He watched her with venomous hatred and sulked. She was succeeding, and constantly dug at him in millions of little ways. Yet she was immune to whatever he came up with to thwart her success.

Until he found out about her three bastard sons.

And his Someday had finally arrived. 


	17. Chapter 17

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song: Far Off by 4lienetic

"Would you _please_ relax?"

Washington twisted anxiously in her seat for the nine hundredth time. She had not been able to stay still during the entire flight for more than five minutes, and although they were nearly halfway there, they still had another four hours to go, and Denmark wasn't quite sure he could handle much more of her fidgeting. Maybe he should have brought a sedative or something. He felt like he could really use it at this point.

"I can't help it," she muttered unhappily. "And I feel weird. I shouldn't be doing this. What if something happens while I'm gone?"

"Well I _hope_ something happens," Denmark said, rolling his eyes. "Do you want everyone to just sit around and wait for you to come back? That's _boring!"_

"Shut up, you troll," Washington hissed. "Smartass bastard."

"Elskede, things will be fine! Canada is staying with the boys and Tar Baby is there. Nothing can get past that cat! I remember the first time I met him. I thought he looked so cute and tiny, but _man_ he didn't like me touching you! So he stuck his little furry paw in my side and I damn near bled to death!"

"Dane, for _fucks_ sake, that's really not even _why_ that happened and you _know_ it. You gave his calf liver to Berserkr, remember?" Washington leaned her head on the window and looked down. "I'd rather be sitting with _Lukas._ At least _he's_ quiet."

Behind her, Norway glanced up and smirked.

If she were to be completely honest, Washington didn't know _why_ she was so uneasy. She trusted Canada more than anyone else when it came to the children, and Tar Baby really _would_ protect them fiercely. Everything would be fine. They had even gone to Syttende Mai fest and nothing had happened. Oregon had even come up and had taken Cascadia for ice cream and they had come back perfectly fine. She was stressed out over _nothing._

"Do you think Ice will be happy about Marshmallow?" Denmark wondered. "Gil and I tried everything to teach him to talk. But for some reason the only word he's able to say is 'bad'."

Washington snapped a magazine open and loudly turned the pages. "Hm, I wonder why," she said through clenched teeth. He didn't take the hint and went right on talking, until finally she couldn't take it anymore. She got up and climbed over the back of her seat and into the empty space next to Norway. He nodded at her in understanding and continued reading a book. Denmark turned and looked at them, shaking his head.

"You guys are weirdos about flying," he began.

"Will you please!" Washington shouted, then lowered her voice when people looked over at them curiously. "Could you please be quiet for a while? _Dearest?_ I need a nap."

To his credit, he didn't disturb her during her nap, which only lasted about an hour anyway because someone in business class had a medical emergency, and the man seated across the aisle from Norway just _happened_ to be a doctor so there was a loud flurry of excitement for about an hour or so. By the time everything had settled down, they were getting ready to land.

"Finally!" Denmark exclaimed. "You're in København, søde. Now to spend the next ten days doing whatever you want."

"Well, I do whatever I want _anyway_ , but okay," Washington said, as they picked up the luggage and he called a car. Norway stood between her and Denmark, the cat carrier at his feet. Marshmallow simply took everything in stride, not even freaking out about the noise. If it had been Tar Baby, Washington thought, he'd be on the prowl for the nearest source of fish. He forgot no details about his previous trips to this city.

"Are you ready to see everyone?" Denmark continued. He made sure to ask this instead of asking her if she was excited about seeing everyone. She would never admit to that.

"Yes, especially Jens," she said, allowing herself a slight smile. It had been nearly a month since she had sent him to stay with Sweden and Finland. She was glad everyone was so close that they often stayed in the same house. She disliked going to visit others as much as she disliked having visitors, but she liked the Nordics even more than she liked most of her own family, so here it was far more bearable.

Before they left the city to head towards Sweden's house, Denmark said, "So there's something different from the last time you were here. Remember that we used to have to take a boat across? There is a bridge now." He knew she would appreciate the construction and the view, since she had the interesting distinction of having four of the five longest floating bridges in the world. He personally thought a floating bridge was terrifying, but Washington was very different from Scandinavia in a very important thing: the hard granite of the North Sea floor didn't exist all over the world, and the ground in the Northwest United States was prone to liquefaction. They had actually stayed up into the wee hours of the morning discussing this after driving back from Seattle the other day. Halfway across the bridge, he had begun to panic. He thought that they were entirely too close to the water, and though he couldn't feel the bridge move, he imagined it shaking them off into the lake. Norway would never admit it, but he agreed completely.

"Well?" He looked at her as they exited the tunnel and started across the span to Malmö. "Isn't it beautiful?"

"Sh," she ordered. "I'm busy." She stared out the window, taking in the Kattegat. When she turned to look at him he jumped. He thought she looked crazy for a moment, with those big old eyes of hers. "So you know, Dane, you will be taking me out on this water."

"Uh, sure, yeah."

"More than just one time."

"Yes, Kate, whatever you say," Denmark promised, wishing desperately that she would stop looking at him like that. "Norge, are you coming home with us, or will you be going over to Oslo?"

"I don't have to be there until Monday," Norway replied. "And Iceland is at Sve and Fin's right now, anyway." He had already phoned them to be sure that they actually knew Washington was coming, which they did. Fin especially enjoyed spending time with her, and he even had a house in Deep River. Norway had been there once. When he had gone outside in the middle of the night to smoke, a bear had strolled right past him without even a glance. It was possibly the single most terrifying thing you could run into out there, Fin had said. According to him, it happened quite a bit. Norway had been very relieved when he didn't encounter any wildlife at Washington's house.

"Oh, it isn't that there isn't any," she had shrugged, "you just didn't see. If seeing a bear at Finland's place freaked you out, I don't think you're going to want to know what's out _there."_

Norge hoped she would run into a reindeer.

"Fin wants us all to eat together," he reminded Denmark as they unloaded their luggage. Sve came out to grab Washington's things, looking sternly at Denmark.

"She won't let me," Denmark began, but Washington didn't object to Sweden helping her at all. Norway gave him a smug look. Somehow Washington managed to get into the house before they did, and was already greeting everyone in her brief way. Finland would have none of that and promptly pulled her into a hug, and she stared helplessly at Denmark over Fin's shoulder. He widened his eyes and shrugged, which caused her to glare at him.

"Where is Iceland?" Norway asked. "I have something for him." He opened the cat carrier and Marshmallow inched out, slowly. In the other room, Hanatamago began to squeal excitedly.

"Bad," Marshmallow cried.

"Oh, look at him!" Finland exclaimed, cooing over the cat. "Isn't he gorgeous, Berwald?"

"Ja, 'e's sweet," Sweden replied, watching Norway hand the cat to Finland. "Does 'e have a name?"

"Marshmallow," Denmark said. "You know, because he kind of looks like one."

Hana's barking became frenzied. Marshmallow cringed back against Finland's chest. "Bad," he said again. Norway looked around.

"Where is Iceland?" he asked again. "I thought he was here."

Washington drifted into the kitchen to see what needed to be done for dinner. There on the counter sat Iceland, staring intently at his phone. He had his earbuds in, which explained why he wasn't aware that they were there. Washington pulled one of the earbuds out and Iceland looked up, startled.

"Hey," Washington said, "We're here. Where's Jens?"

Iceland glanced down at his phone. "With Sealand," he said. "I didn't know what time you were coming so I--"

"I'm sorry, were you talking to me?" Washington interrupted. "Since you're staring at your phone so hard, I wasn't sure. What were you saying?" she prodded when Iceland looked up at her reluctantly.

"Jens and Peter are outside in the back," Iceland muttered, embarrassed. "What's going on in there?" he wondered, hearing Finland's exclamations over the cat.

Washington started out the back door. "Go and see," she told him. "Norway brought you something." She stepped out onto the garden terrace and instantly spotted her son. At the same time, Olympus turned around and saw his mother.

"Mor!" he shouted. "Du er endelig her!" He jumped into her arms, holding tight. "Jeg savnede dig."

"Jeg savnede dig," she assured him, squeezing him. "Og dine brødre savner dig også."

"De er ikke her? Fanden," Olympus muttered.

"Jens Køhler, I don't want to hear you using foul language, even in Danish," Washington scolded. She looked over at Sealand and added, "We don't need anyone else picking up bad habits."

Olympus looked up at her and smiled brightly. "Undskyld, mor. Hvor er far?"

"Inside, with the others. Now come on, dinner is almost ready, and you and Sealand are _filthy._ Go inside and get washed up, both of you."

"But we're pirates," Sealand cried. "Avast, ye pernicious maid! There's no need to wash!" As she chased them into the house they shrieked like girls, and she could hear them all the way into the bathroom. Finland went to supervise.

"They'll flood the room if they are left to it," he explained. Washington understood completely, having had her own experiences with the children. She helped Sweden set the table, grateful for his stoic nature. Most found him extremely intimidating, but she never had. He had been so instrumental in Jens' birthing and he had helped to name him. If it hadn't been for him, she probably would have died of fright during the birth, or at least severely injured herself because she'd been so afraid to push. He'd been the only one to help her, because Finland had had his hands full with PanicAttack!Denmark.

Iceland was attempting to get Marshmallow to say something other than' bad', and after several tries, the poor kitty warbled, 'Help." Iceland gave up at this point, feeling sorry for the cat. It was still adorable, though. He thought Marshmallow was a perfect name for it.

He kept his eyes on his phone during dinner, because he was in the middle of a heated debate with Hong Kong about whose music was more depressing, meaning better.

"Iceland," Washington began, "put the phone away during dinner, please."

The four other Nordics and Sealand all shook their heads at her, making negative gestures. She acted like she didn't even notice, and Iceland kept right on texting.

"Iceland, _put_ that thing down," Washington repeated, her voice sharpening. "If you don't stop texting in _two_ seconds, I will put it in the blender."

A horrified silence fell, and Iceland looked up slowly. Olympus spoke up on his left.

"I wouldn't wait around to find out if I were you," he warned. "She'll do it."

"Iceland, _give_ me that phone."

Nobody dared to even breathe. Washington held her hand out, beckoning for Iceland to comply. Grudgingly, he realized that he was bested. As he handed it over, she added, "If I catch you trying to get it back before the meal is over, I'm breaking it." She glanced at it and to his dismay thumbed through the texts. After a moment, she began to type.

"Hey!" Iceland shouted. "Why are you guys just _letting_ her do this? What did you just _say_ to him?"

Washington turned the phone off. "That you're in the middle of a family dinner, and that it is inconsiderate of you to continue your conversation. Oh, and also that King Plague is much more depressing than The Neighborhood."

"Oh my God I hate you _all,"_ Iceland groaned, but Norway saw the smile in his eyes. 

Denmark and Washington made small talk with Finland, mostly about the recent discovery of an old underground passage in Deep River. Finland thought he remembered when it had been dug. "I think maybe 1879," he mused. "It was very rainy that year and several people nearly drowned during the construction. I tried to get better materials, but there wasn't nearly enough finished rock."

"Kate, what's that scar around your neck?" Sealand asked suddenly. Finland and Sweden stared at each other in horror, then Fin scolded Sealand. 

"Peter, it isn't nice to point out someone's scars," he said, sternly. Sealand looked over at Washington and his face crumpled as if he were about to cry. "You need to apologize."

"I'm sorry," Sealand cried.

Washington stood up, slightly shaky. "I'm going to be sick," she muttered and rushed from the room.

Iceland glared at Sealand. "Oh, real _nice,_ Peter."

"I didn't _mean_ to!" Sealand wailed. "I _said_ I was sorry."

"Yeah, and she sure believes you," Iceland scoffed. Denmark slammed his fist on the table.

"Shut the fuck up," he snapped. "Iceland, that's not even necessary. Maybe _you_ should go apologize since you've been a dick the _whole_ time she's been here."

"I have not!"

"What is wrong with you two?" Finland cried.

"Well, they're both being idiots," Norway offered. "Someone should see if Washington is all right."

"I will," Sweden announced, and Olympus looked at his father in alarm.

"Far, er mor okay?" he asked. 

"I am sure she is," Denmark promised. "She's had a very long day. We had to get up at three o'clock in the morning and then spend two hours in the airport before we even got on our plane. She had to spend nine hours on that airplane with me!"

"Far," Olympus whispered when they were alone after dinner. "Do you know what the scar is?"

"No, Jens, now let's not talk about it, please. If your mother wants you to know, she'll tell you." Denmark didn't know, though he had noticed it the first time she had come to København. It was hard not to notice it, because it went nearly all the way around her neck, as if someone had tried to behead her and had failed. A few nations had scars like that, though they tended to fade eventually. This one had not yet begun to fade, and she usually wore a scarf or bandana around her neck to hide it. In all the long years he had known her, she never discussed it, and the one time he had touched it, she had gone completely stiff in his arms and would not even respond to being tickled. After that he had given her his own bandana and she had worn it ever since. The weather had been so nice for the past few days that she hadn't wanted to wear one. "Now, your mom has decided to go to bed early, so do you want to stay up a little bit later tonight?"

"Yes!"

"Need t' talk t' ya," Sweden said, standing in the doorway. "Jens, go brush yer teeth. This's private."

 _Oh, great,_ Denmark thought.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which a nightmare brings a dire message

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song: явь by Axius Link

Washington was dreaming. 

After seemingly endless wandering, she suddenly found herself at the very edge of the world, standing on a beach of pale, smooth sand. It was very different than the beaches at home, but like home, a heavy mist hung over the ocean. Although the water was grey and churning, there were several ships plying the seas. The mist scraped across the water like the teeth of a bear trap. At home, this was always a harbinger of doom, and she stared helplessly into it, suddenly unable to look away.

A dark shape was making its way towards her, melting out of the mist until she could clearly see that it was a man. He was not as tall as Denmark, but he was taller than Norway. She thought he looked familiar, in a deep, innate way that she couldn't explain if she wanted to. Her fingers began to tingle and she found it increasingly difficult to breathe. When the man reached her, he stopped, gazing at her with undisguised intent. When he spoke, it took the last traces of air from her lungs. "Hello, my little stormcloud."

She fought to get her breath back and finally managed to take a tiny, woefully inadequate sip of air. "Who are you?" Her voice sounded oddly muffled in her own ears.

"You already know my name, but perhaps you have forgotten. I am Scandia, the father of the Vikingr," he replied, as if it should have been obvious. 

She stared at him, unable to find any words. Her very heart seemed to stop. "I...but you're--"

He acted like she hadn't even spoken. "I've come to warn you, little storm," he informed her. Behind him, the ocean heaved and raged. "Listen and be wary, destroyer of nations."

She tried to object, but could not even breathe.

"Before the empires ruled, there were four of us," he went on, "Germania, myself and Frisii, and our sister." He paused, staring deeply into her eyes. "Our sister, Kievan Rus." Frozen, she couldn't look away, but she found her voice at last.

"I don't want to hear about it," she gasped out. "Please leave me alone."

Once again, he simply kept right on speaking. "I've come to warn you, little storm," he said again. "Long ago my sister betrayed me, because she wanted what I had found. She was not a nice woman, little tempest, but I think maybe you are already aware of her cruelty." His gaze moved to her throat before he met her eyes again.

"Please," she began, "don't--"

"My sister put a knife in my back in order to steal from me what I had taken for myself," Scandia continued. "Her own children held me down at knifepoint. I could do nothing as she took you from me, little one. Only watch." He reached out and grasped her shoulder. "Heed my warning, stormcloud. The worst treachery comes from those who are closest to us. The ones whom we trust not to harm us."

"Don't," Washington gasped. "Let go!"

"Beware, my little maelstrom," Scandia said, grimly. The ships in the water began to sink one by one. "For just as my sister betrayed me, so too will your own sister betray _you."_

 _"No!_ You're wrong. She _wouldn't!"_

"Grief is the price we pay for love," he said sadly, his voice echoing around her. He reached out and put his hand on her cheek, just as he had so long ago. Their foreheads touched. "Remember." He began to fade, pulling apart into tendrils of dark smoke.

"No! _Stop!"_

"Heed, little one," he warned, his voice like thunder. A searing pain shot through her chest, numbing her entire body. She moaned and sank to her knees, but she began to fall through the sand faster and faster until she could not even draw breath to scream.


	19. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oregon makes a very poor choice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song: Doll Parts by Hole

"I was beginning to think that you would not come."

Pulling a chair, Oregon quickly sat down, not wanting to meet the other's gaze. She looked around surreptitiously, but there were only two other people in the coffee shop and neither of them seemed interested in what was going on at the back of the room. "You said you have something _important_ to discuss with me," she reminded him. "Now, if you're actually going to tell me something important, that's _one_ thing, but if you're just going to waste my time then maybe I should just call my sister _right now_ and tell her about the _problem_ you are trying to start."

"I _do_ have something to tell you, and it is _very_ important, Comrade," Russia's voice was the same as it always was: slightly playful with a serious dose of psycho. "And it is not _I_ who am causing problem, but your sister, da."

Rolling her eyes, Oregon contemplated throwing her coffee in Russia's face, but decided against it when she actually looked at him. She couldn't remember ever seeing such a look of loathing on anyone's face before. "I'm not in the mood to play _games_ here, Ivan," she pointed out. "And if my sister finds out that I'm talking to you, I'll be--"

He cut her off, neat as you please. "She will never find out, because _nobody_ is going to tell her, _is_ she?" He put his hands flat on the table and leaned forward. "You seem to have a great deal of faith in your sister's trust, Oregon. What would you think if I happened to tell you that she has been deceitful with you?"

"I would call you a liar," Oregon replied. "She has no reason to lie to me."

"Oh, but she _does_ , Comrade Oregon," Russia said, smiling grimly. "Quite a _few_ reasons. And she will keep deceiving, because she is trying to destroy America. Don't look so shocked," he added. 

"Where are you getting this _ridiculous_ idea that she's trying to destroy America?" Oregon demanded. "And stop _calling_ me that. Someone might hear you." She clenched her teeth. "You don't know the first _thing_ about their relationship. Maybe they don't get along all the time, but she'd never do anything to _hurt_ him."

"She's doing it right _now_ , and has been since he was first unfortunate enough to meet her," Russia informed her. "She'll destroy _all_ of you unless you put a stop to her." He steepled his fingers beneath his chin and regarded her curiously. "Tell me, Comrade _Daria,_ which one was that? The day I spoke to you in the toy store. Which one of her little bastards was he?"

Staring at him, Oregon began to seriously regret agreeing to meet with him. "What do you mean, _'which one'?_ That was Cascadia. Prussia's son."

"Wonderful! Da, he looks like trouble, just the same as his father," Russia beamed. "And what of the other two? Where are _they?"_

Oregon began to find it very difficult to breathe. _"What_ other two? There aren't any _others._ What kind of sick _prank--"_

Russia's hands clenched into terrifying fists. "That horrible monster has three bastards of three different fathers, because she is _whore,"_ he hissed. "She has been keeping this from you for over two hundred years. And they are _not_ accidental," he added. "She planned it out and whored herself to those three for a very specific reason."

"Stop calling her a whore," Oregon snapped. "Ivan, you're being ridiculous, and I'm _leaving._ I've just about had _enough."_ She stood and made to walk away, but a single word stopped her.

"Olympus."

She slowly sat back down, feeling her guts churning. "What?"

"Your sestra has been lying to you about this and about other things as well," Russia informed her. "I have many eyes watching. Olympus is the name she gave to the bastard that Denmark sired by her. He is the oldest, and Cascadia is the youngest, da? So there is one more. I think this one will interest you _very_ much. She named him Columbia."

"Shut _up,"_ Oregon panted, feeling on the verge of sickness. This _had_ to be a lie. There was simply no way this was even _possible._ It had been difficult enough for Washington to keep Cascadia a secret before he was born. How could she have done it twice before without _anyone_ knowing? "There's no _way_ she could hide two young children, Ivan. Where were they every time I saw her?"

"Your whore sister has help in her deception," Russia said, simply. "Their fathers enlisted the help of other nations to conceal them. Why don't you see for yourself? Go to her house. You'll surprise her, and she won't have time to hide them. Columbia was practically right under your nose, staying with Canada, da. A wise choice by that devil Germany, _much_ wiser than the choice to have a bastard with your own sister."

 _"No_. I've heard enough of this," Oregon said, angrily. "For _one_ thing, Kate has never even _looked_ at Ludwig. She knows how I feel about him. And for another, how do _you_ know so much about them when _I_ knew nothing? You are a _liar,_ Ivan."

"Go on then," Russia replied, calmly. "Go to her house. Surprise her. You will see the truth for yourself. _Listen_ to me, Daria. She planned these children so that she could destroy you all. You can stop her, and save America. You will be hero."

"Shut up!" Oregon exclaimed. "I didn't know about them because they don't _exist!_ I don't _need_ to be a hero. Nobody is in any danger. Get out of here, Ivan. Or I just might tell Kate about all these _ridiculous_ lies!"

"Oh, but you are mistaken, Daria," Russia sighed. "You see, I have thought long and hard about this, and I have decided that perhaps young Cascadia will do better under _my_ guidance. After all, his mother is whore and she is trying to destroy all of you. And you can help _me_. Bring me to him, and when I take him away, you have my word that I will protect you from whatever may happen afterwards. I would need your cooperation of course."

"I can't believe you just don't _get_ it," Oregon shook her head. "There is no way in hell that I would _ever_ help you do such an awful thing to my sister and Cascadia. No. _Never."_

"Her _home,_ Daria. Take me there and you will see for yourself," Russia said, implacably. "You will make the arrangement and then call me, da? And we will go together to see those little whoresons."

There would be no reasoning with him, Oregon knew. It was insane. And yet...she couldn't quite banish the awful feeling that just maybe, he was telling the truth. "You'll have to give me a few days," she said at last. 

"Da, of course."

"And you can't tell _anyone_ that I'm taking you to her house!"

"I will not say a word," Russia said, smiling brightly. "You have my promise."


	20. Chapter 20

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song: Violet by Hole

Lack of sleep was _never_ kind to Oregon. When it came to stressful situations, she was admittedly shit at dealing with it. So after her meet up with Russia, when she was unable to get any sleep, she decided to take it out on the person responsible. Russia was far from thrilled to be getting a phone call from her at three in the morning, but each time he hung up, she simply called him back, and when he tried to turn his phone off, she crashed his voice mail server. So he had no choice but to listen to her insane babbling.

"Tell me _again_ how you're going to do this," she insisted, even though he had already told her twice. "She's visiting Denmark for the next week or so, and that means that I don't have a good reason to go to her house. You know, because she's not even there."

"And that's _precisely_ why it is the best time to do it," he replied for the third time. "You will go to the door and you will be able to see if the children are there without Canada becoming suspicious. He will think you have just stopped by to see the boy. You maybe will distract him, da? and I can come in and take boy and nobody will get hurt."

It _sounded_ like a good plan, but Oregon knew from experience that even with the best planning, things could go horribly wrong. It wouldn't be easy to fool Canada: he'd already told her that if she wanted to come visit Cascadia, she'd have to give him an hour's notice. That was fine with Oregon, and she'd been known to forget little things like that in the past so her inability to listen would not come as such a surprise to him. That Washington was away actually was a lucky bonus, because Oregon knew better than to act scatterbrained around her. And Washington had no patience for people who didn't do things _exactly_ as she instructed. If she arrived a little less than an hour after calling Canada he'd be mad, but he would not refuse her at the doorstep like Washington would if she were home. "Russia, if I get there, and this supposed kid of hers turns out to be six feet tall, I'm _never_ forgiving you," she declared. 

"Do not worry, Oregon," he assured her. "He is still young boy. Believe me, I have seen him. They won't be little boys forever, Comrade, so that is why we must act _now._ Your horrible sister is growing stronger than the rest of her close siblings. She has surpassed even you, though she lies and pretends that she hasn't."

Oregon turned and looked out the window, not really seeing anything. "I don't believe you," she murmured. She knew, however, that Washington _was_ much more savvy than either herself or Idaho when it came to trade and commerce, and that only her smaller size kept her behind California. Yet even then, she was able to command the self-important Golden State's respect. After all, she had a resource that he desperately needed: Water. Oregon thought of the way with which Washington often used California's weaknesses to her advantage and shivered. She knew that he needed water and that was something she'd never give up to him, but he also desperately needed a less expensive source of power, so she had begun to trade solar panels for the crops that her cooler climate didn't allow her to grow nautrally. No, she would not allow him access to her water, but when he burned--when he was screaming and in pain--she was always the first to help, even though he was closer to Oregon. 

"If she behaves this way with other states, then there is no reason to think that she is not doing so with other countries," Russia went on.

"Will you stop it!" Oregon exclaimed. "I'm too tired to go around in circles about this, Russia, but you know that we all trade with nations."

"Da, of course," he said, quickly. "But only with Amerika's approval. Yet I know of several commercial interests she shares with Canada of which Amerika is not even aware. If she is allowed to simply keep growing, then those children will grow too, and I know what happens when one becomes stronger than the others. Amerika will be destroyed unless we act now, and take the youngest son, since he is weakest and easier to influence."

"This _better_ work, Ivan," Oregon said. "She's going to be furious. I don't know if you've ever seen her when she is upset."

He sniffed. "I have. She is monster, I know, Daria. But she will be easily manipulated if I have the boy. You only need to bring him to me."

After that, he ended the call and Oregon was trapped with herself again. 


	21. Chapter 21

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song: Fire Water Burn by The Bloodhound Gang

"Here ya go, Den," Sweden set the cup of coffee in front of his brother and sat down next to him. "Will Washin't'n want any?"

Denmark sighed as the coffee finally began to wake him. "Nah, she's still sleeping," he said. Her horrible dream had kept him awake most of the night, and by the time she finally settled down, she had rolled around so much that she'd pulled all the blankets off him and had gotten them wrapped around herself so tightly that he'd had to wake her to disentangle her. "America seemed to take the news about Olympus pretty well," he mused. "But why did you decide to finally tell him?"

"B'cause ya wouldn't have," Sweden pointed out. "He took it well because he already suspected about 'im. Scotland told 'im when 'e adopted' er that there was a child, but Alfred didn't really believe' im."

"I don't get it, though. Why, why tell him at all?" Denmark frowned. "All these years she hasn't shared her personal life with him. What would it have hurt to keep it quiet?"

Sweden shook his head disapprovingly. "Families shouldn't keep things like that from each other," he insisted. "Trust is 'mport'nt. You can't truly support someone you can't trust."

Frowning, Denmark stared into his coffee, trying to see his own reflection. "I love America to death, Sve, but in all the years I have known him, he's always acted like Washington is a...a red-haired step-child. I mean, well...she kind of _is_. Don't get me wrong," he added, "he _has_ tried to get her to warm up to him. And it's even worse that Oregon is such a people pleaser. She really did take up a lot of America's attention when they were younger."

"He was upset, a little," Sweden said, "and 'e wanted to know what 'e should do, to let 'er know that 'e's not mad at her."

"But you just said he was upset."

Sweden clenched his fist, but kept it on his leg, so Denmark didn't notice. "I didn't say that 'e was upset with 'er. I just said that 'e was upset."

Denmark shrugged his shoulders. "But what was he upset about? Because she didn't tell him?"

"I don't know what it was. 'E didn't want to talk about that. I j'st told 'm that Olympus was staying with us f'r a few weeks."

"Uugh," Washington grumbled, appearing in the doorway to the kitchen. She went to the stove and began to make her own coffee, barely sparing either of them a glance as she walked past the table. "Your voices are making me sick."

"Good morning, Wash'n'ton," Sweden began, but she gave him a withering look.

"What's so _good_ about it?"

As if on cue, Iceland burst into the kitchen, Norway right behind him. To Washington's extreme annoyance, they were right in the middle of an insanely moronic argument. 

"I do not care _what_ China allows Hong Kong to do, _nor_ do I care that Hong Kong has invited you to share that apartment. You are _not_ moving to London."

"You don't let me do _anything!_ I'm old enough to live with my boyfriend if I want--"

"You are _hardly_ able to grasp how important this kind of responsibility is," Norway insisted. "And you barely know him."

Iceland stomped a foot. "I _do_ know him! He's a lot more understanding than _you_ , and he lets me be myself! He _gets_ me! He never harasses me about needing to smile _and_ he never asks my opinion on stupid _shit!"_

"I wish Hong Kong were _my_ boyfriend," Washington said, glaring at Denmark. 

Norway had somehow forgotten the idiocy of trying to speak to Washington before she had her morning coffee. "Please don't encourage my foolish little broth--"

She quickly turned and fired a salt shaker at him. He barely managed to duck out of the way. Before it even hit the wall she'd picked up the pepper, as well. "Go on telling me I shouldn't say it."

 _"Norge!_ She hasn't had her coffee! Have you lost your mind?" Denmark yelled.

Norway did, in fact, suddenly feel as if he had. Wide-eyed, he cringed back to dodge her incredibly accurate aim, but she didn't throw the pepper. She watched him, her eyes narrowed in a clear challenge to him, daring him to risk his safety just to prove a stupid point. Finally when she was satisfied that he had seen reason, she turned back to the stove. At the same time, Finland came into the kitchen and looked down at the floor as he stepped in a pud44dle of salt. 

"Why is there salt everywhere?" he wondered, but one look from Washington sent him slowly backing from the room without another word.

Iceland thought he just might be crushing on her.

A little. 

Noticing that Olympus kept himself scarce, Iceland also wondered why nobody, meaning Denmark, had ever bothered to explain to him that Washington was in fact a very crude woman before that first cup of coffee. If her own sons were already adept at staying out of her path of destruction, it must be serious. He stood next to the table, feeling a little awkward (actually, he wanted to fucking _die_ once he realized what he'd said about Hong Kong) but not wanting to miss talking to Washington about being such a hardcore coffee drinker. He was still getting used to coffee, himself. It would help to know what kinds of coffee tasted best.

Apparently it was going to take a lot more than just a few sips of coffee for her to become either tolerant or tolerable, because she finally slammed her cup down, somehow not breaking it or cracking the table. _"What?"_ she demanded. At this, Denmark and Sweden tried to sneak out of the room, and Sweden made it. But before Denmark could make his escape, she grabbed his arm.

"Where do you think _you're_ going?" she wondered, and he looked at Norway pleadingly, but Norway wasn't staying around to see what would happen, even as Denmark pleaded for help.

"Wait! Norge, this is cruel," he exclaimed. "Okay, elskede, I was just going to talk to Sve. You--"

She gave him a smile that made his balls shrivel. "You can talk to him later. Sit down." It was not an invitation but a command, though she didn't even change the tone of her voice. Her hand around his arm was beginning to squeeze, and he wasn't keen on finding out whether she could actually break his arm, so he sat. She noticed the way he was trembling and frowned at him.

"Jesus Christ, Dane," she snapped. "You think I'm _mad_ at you? Since when have I not been completely transparent about being mad at anyone? I just need my fucking _coffee._ If I was pissed at you, you would have heard about it before you got out of bed." She scowled and drank her coffee, glaring out the window. By watching her eyes he could see when she was finally beginning to relax. Iceland slid into the chair across from them.

"You're really not a morning person, are you?"

Washington looked at him. "I am not. Except maybe you mean that I don't wake up early?"

"Well, I don't know," Iceland admitted. "This is the first time we've woken up in the same house."

"No it isn't," Denmark interrupted them, and Washington put her hand over his mouth. 

"Why do you have to have a head?" she snapped, giving him a look that could demolish the Great Wall.

Iceland almost smiled.

"I can wake up early just fine," Washington said to Iceland, keeping her hand firmly over Denmark's mouth. "The sun rises insanely early during the summer at my house, which I know you understand completely since it doesn't even set at your place sometimes. I get up when the sun does. Sometimes just before. But if you want to have a pleasant morning, don't even fucking talk to me until my coffee is gone."

"No fucking kidding," Olympus exclaimed, appearing from out of nowhere. Marshmallow sat on his shoulder. When Olympus said that, the cat replied, "Help. Bad," but wasn't interested in getting away from the boy. Iceland had decided that _Help_ and _Bad_ were probably the only words Marshmallow would ever speak, and they more than likely had multiple meanings. This time, he was agreeing with Olympus.

Of all Washington's children, Olympus was the only one who consistently used the same salty language that his mother did despite her efforts at correcting him. He had the outward appearance of a ten-year-old, so it could be pretty shocking to humans when they overheard him. Washington didn't mind spending time among her people and she often brought her sons with her, so they had plenty of experience with interpersonal situations and it wasn't a case of Olympus being poorly socialized among ordinary folks. It was simply the way that he talked. He and his brothers had long ago learned to avoid their mother until after that first cup of coffee, but they weren't dependent on it themselves. Luckily, they all seemed to have taken after their fathers when it came to their dispositions. 

"We're going out on the Kattegat today," Washington announced to Olympus, much to Denmark's surprise (but was he surprised? Was he _really?_ ), and the boy exchanged a fist bump with Iceland. Washington swatted their hands down, because they were practically in her face. "Get off me," she said, and Iceland couldn't help noticing that she looked a little uncomfortable. He could understand, not being a social creature himself, and she was now being slowly boxed in by both Denmark and Olympus. She kept scooting her chair nearer to the window, and they kept moving when she did, until she was finally trapped in the corner with both of them looming over her, talking incessantly to each other as if she weren't there. Iceland wondered if they were purposely being stupid or if they perhaps couldn't see the increasing anger on Washington's face. By the time he felt that he should point it out to them, it was too late. He wasn't sure if he should feel bad about just sitting there as Washington chased them out of the house with one of Finland's rifles. It was unloaded, of course, but an angry Washington was not to be questioned about anything. Iceland found her to be absolutely terrifying, and for him to admit that said a lot about just how terrifying she was. 

But he _did_ think the day out on the Kattegat was much more enjoyable with Denmark bound and gagged.

 _So_ much more.


	22. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Russia makes his move.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> East Hastings by Godspeed You! Black Emperor

"Nicholas, Karsten, have either of you seen Tar Baby?" Canada stood on the back deck, frowning as his eyes swept the property. It had been nearly three whole days since he had seen the cat, and while that in itself wouldn't have been enough to alarm him, the fact that neither Columbia nor Cascadia hadn't seen him either certainly was. "When did you last see him?"

"The yesterday of the day before yesterday," Cascadia replied in his usual calm voice. Columbia smirked.

"Three days ago, Onkel Matt. He's run off before, but never for this long."

Sighing through his nose, Canada started down the deck stairs. "I'm going to go look for him," he said. "Stay close to the house, please."

Before he got too far away, the phone inside the house began to ring. Cascadia, though usually not permitted to answer the phone, ran into the house and the answering service caught the call before either he or Canada could get to it. The machine beeped.

"You have a collect call from," the robotic, slightly female voice began.

"Come. Get me," a cat's voice snapped.

"An inmate at the Clallam County Animal Corrections Facility," the robo-voice continued. "To accept the charges, press one now, or you may--"

Canada snatched the phone up and jammed the number pad. "Tar Baby!?"

"Hi," Tar Baby replied.

"You're at the pound?"

"...yeah."

"I'll be right there," Canada promised.

"Well it's not as if I can go anywhere until you get here," Tar Baby retorted. "You guys better hurry." He sounded pissed, but Canada hung up without really hearing him. He rushed to his cell phone and quickly called Oregon. "I need to go into town," he informed her, "but I don't think it's appropriate for Nicholas to come along. Tar Baby got picked up," he explained. "It's not going to be pleasant, and it'll probably take a long time."

"I can be there soon, actually," Oregon said, much to his surprise. He was expecting her to be at home, seven hours away. "I'm in Seattle for a, uh...conference."

Relieved, Canada turned to Cascadia. "Good," he sighed. "Aunt Daria will be here soon to watch you while Karsten and I go get Tar Baby."

"What? Why can't I come with you?" Cascadia whined. "Karsten gets to go with you, so why not me?" Canada winced.

"Love, Tar Baby doesn't especially enjoy car rides, and he sounded really upset on the phone just now," he explained, "so maybe it's better if you wait for him here. You know how unpleasant he is. Karsten will be able to help get him from the pound while I deal with paying the fees and all." _Besides_ , he thought, _your aunt has no idea that your brother exists and I'm not in the mood to have her find out now_. "I'll make you guys something to eat now so Aunt Daria doesn't have to worry about it." 

"Make that thing Grandpère France makes," Cascadia said, vaguely. "Uh...what's it called again? Bouillabaisse."

"I hate French food," Columbia protested. "Make brownies, Onkel Matt."

"I am _not_ making brownies for supper, Karsten," Canada said firmly. "And you'll be smart to keep your mouth shut about that, eh. If your mother knew I let you have pot brownies she'd kill me."

"No she wouldn't," Cascadia piped up. "She lets all of us have them sometimes. But she only lets me have one, and she lets Jens and Karsten have two."

"Brownies it is then," Canada said, because he didn't really feel like making the seafood dish. And he didn't even have to put any pot in the brownies, but of course Cascadia showed him where she kept her extract. He had to climb up onto the opened refrigerator door and then get into a little locked compartment next to the pantry to get to the extract, but he knew exactly where it was. Canada made sure he only put a single drop in, so that the boys wouldn't be stoned for the next two days. He made excellent cannabis treats, but Washington's pot brownies were _legendary_. He still had flashbacks to the first time he'd ever had one. He'd been _very_ smug to assume that simply because he was close friends with Netherlands and got his weed from him, that everyone else's was _shit_. 

She had proved him so _very_ wrong.

The chocolate revved the boys up to the point where they were chasing each other around the house with slingshots. Canada felt a strange, childish glee that he would not have to be the one to deal with Cascadia, who was the more hyper of the brothers when they were hopped up on chocolate or sugar. Washington had told him about how Cascadia had often convinced Norway to give him fruit jellies, and had then climbed the poor Nordic nation after each time. He looked out the window when he heard Oregon's car pulling up to the house.

"Karsten, go out to the truck and start it up, please, and use the back door."

Pouting, Cascadia sat on the floor and crossed his arms. "Fine," he grumbled. "Go on then. Leave."

"We have to wait for Aunt Daria to come inside, because I'm not leaving you alone for one second," Canada reminded him. "And I'm probably going to be gone until after your bedtime, so please promise me," he said, firmly, "that you won't give your aunt any trouble about going to bed, eh. I don't want to have to call your mom only five days into her vacation."

Cascadia huffed, but he didn't want to spoil his mama's well-earned vacation either so he simply settled down with a book as Canada got ready to leave. Oregon met him as he was going out the door.

"Okay, Nicholas, I'll see you in a little bit. Don't give your aunt any trouble," Canada reminded him and hurried to the truck, speeding off. He wanted to get there and come back as quickly as possible. Columbia, usually much more outgoing than his father Germany, was in the passenger seat, staring ahead in silence. Canada noticed the way his jaw was set and wondered what could be bothering him.

"Karsten?"

"Ja."

Canada hissed to himself. Karsten mainly spoke English with him, but when he was either deep in thought or upset, he either refused to speak at all or he would use German. The silence was better. The silence meant you might have a chance at survival if it turned out that you had upset him. "What's wrong?" he asked.

They drove for the next half hour in silence before Columbia answered. "Where was Oregon when you called her? She got here really fast, don't you think?"

Canada frowned slightly. It had not occurred to him at the time, but now that Columbia had mentioned it, it _did_ seem odd. "Well, I...I guess it was a little quick, but she was in Seattle, Karsten."

"She got to the house in _forty minutes,"_ Columbia pointed out. "Doesn't it take almost two hours to get there from Seattle? The ferry takes forty minutes all by itself. That's just _weird_."

Yes. Canada found that rather weird himself. "Well, maybe she was already on her way over," he suggested, although it didn't make sense. She knew she had to call ahead.

"Why doesn't Oregon know about me?" Columbia demanded. "Why does it have to be a secret?"

Canada cleared his throat. "Well, Karsten, your parents' relationship is a little complicated. They both love you very much, and I'm sure they are good friends, but your father loves Oregon, so it might upset her if she knew Germany had...uh, been close with your mother."

"Vati doesn't love her," Columbia said, much to Canada's surprise. "He told me. He's only being nice to Oregon because she's Mom's sister, and he was planning on telling her himself when she got all clingy and wanted an official agreement between them. Now it's just weird and annoying."

"Your father told you that?"

"Ja, he did. He only loves Mom. I mean," Columbia added, "he's not in love _with_ her, whatever the difference is, but she's the only."

"Well, Karsten, Denmark and your mother are--" Canada began, but Columbia stopped him.

"Don't tell me. I'm still a _child!"_ He widened his eyes and shuddered. Canada laughed, but he found it a little disturbing that he was just now finding out about Germany's true feelings for Oregon. Why did he suddenly feel sick? he wondered. With relief he finally took the exit to town, and by the time they pulled into the shelter car park, it was nearly dark. 

"I'll go let them know we're here," Canada said, "and you go find where he's at."

It didn't take them long to locate Tar Baby among the rows of cells. Above all the yowls and plaintive meows one voice rang out as soon as Karsten saw him. "Let me out! Right! Now!"

Canada chuckled and turned to smile at the woman in charge of the cat block. "Yeah, that's him," he admitted, rubbing the back of his neck self-consciously.

"Well, it isn't every day we get a talking cat," she said, clearly flattered by Canada's attention. "He's very, uh, _expressive_. He kept threatening to kill the man who brought him in. The poor thing was all tied up, but Mr. ...uh, oh here it is," she said, pulling the paperwork. "Mr. _Braginsky_ advised us that he'd trapped the cat in his yard after a fight, so we recommended that he secure the animal before bringing him in..."

It was as if he were in Vimy again, going over the top only to be met with artillery at nearly point blank range. Canada's ears began to ring, and his heart began galloping. He absolutely could _not_ breathe. From somewhere nearby, Tar Baby's sharp voice lashed out and struck him.

"Where the _fuck_ is Nicholas?"

Canada opened his eyes. "Did you say..."

"We need to go _now,"_ Tar Baby ordered. _"Fuck_ that paperwork! _Come on!"_

"Sir, you just need to--"

"Here," Canada barked, slapping some bills down. "I don't want change. Karsten!" They raced out to the truck, Canada cursing under his breath. He could only hope that Russia had no idea where Washington lived, or that he was too far away to get there before they could return. Oregon was strong but no match for Russia, and she was far too much of a pacifist to be very skilled at physical defense. 

"Can't this thing go any faster?" Tar Baby shouted as they screamed down 101. The spedometer trembled at over a hundred and ten miles an hour.

 _"No!_ Goddamn it! How the _fuck_ did he find you? Where _were_ you?" Canada demanded.

"The son of a bitch was at the house," Karsten growled. There was a rage in his eyes that made him look much older than eight. "I fucking _knew_ it. I _knew_ I felt his foul presence. Did he catch you at the house?"

Tar Baby hissed. "He was waiting for me on the other side of the treeline, you know, where I like to catch greys. The bastard caught me by surprise."

Canada grit his teeth. "All we can do is hope we get there in time," he ground out. Even going twice the speed limit seemed to take forever, but by the time they reached the end of Washington's long drive, he knew they were too late.

The door was wide open.

 _"Fuck!"_ Tar Baby screamed, leaping from the truck as soon as he could. He tore into the house and Canada heard his voice rise to a roar. "He's gone!" 

_Oh, no,_ Canada thought, the world pitching sideways. _Oh, no, oh fucking God please no, this isn't happening, this isn't--_

"Daria!" He rushed towards Oregon, who was on the floor by the front door. She was still struggling to sit up, and her face was a mess. It was clear that Russia had struck her.

"He...blindsided me," Oregon managed to say through her swollen jaw. "When I opened the door. I couldn't. ..."

"Sh," Canada said, quickly moving to get first aid supplies. As he gently cleaned Oregon's face, he noticed out of the corner of his eye that Columbia was watching them with cold suspicion. The look on his face was downright chilling. 

_"Where. The fuck. Is. My. Brother?"_ He moved suddenly, grabbing Oregon by the collar of her blouse. He shook her hard enough to whiplash her. "Du weißt es! _Du weißt genau! Sag mir, wo mein Bruder ist, du verdammte Fotze!"_

"Columbia, stop," Canada shouted, pulling him back. The boy's fury was incredible. Oregon stared at him with undisguised shock. 

"You're...oh, you little _bastard,"_ she breathed, and Columbia tore away from Canada's grasp and slapped her across the face. Canada gasped, but the boy would not be stopped. 

_"Lügner!"_ he roared. "Get out of here before I _kill_ you!"

"Karsten, stop," Canada shouted, grabbing him and holding him. "Stop. Oregon didn't do this. Look at her face, Karsten. Russia obviously hit her hard enough to knock her out and he took Nicholas. You need to calm down."

Columbia's eyes narrowed. At that moment he looked exactly like his father, and it was _terrifying_. "She needs to tell us where the _fuck_ he took Nicky. Bitch, if you don't start talking in three seconds, I will pull off your fingernails and _feed_ them to you."

"Karsten, this is _not_ solving anything!"

"You better get the fuck out of here if you had anything to do with this," Tar Baby growled. "Because guess who I just talked to? Washington is on her way home right now, Oregon. Now's your chance to get out of here before you have to face her."

"You're all...you're all being _ridiculous,"_ Oregon finally said, looking indignant. "I didn't do this. Why _would_ I?"

"Because you're a bitch?"

"Karsten!" Canada shook the boy once. "Stop. Go outside and wait for your mother."

"She's coming from Denmark," Oregon reminded him, but when she saw the look on Canada's face, she stopped. He looked angrier than she had ever seen him.

"The _ravens_ are bringing them," Tar Baby replied. "You might have a few hours. Better come clean now. "

"I didn't _do_ it!" Oregon insisted. "We were watching a movie and someone knocked on the front door. I thought maybe it was you guys, so I didn't even think twice before I opened the door. He hit me as soon as I saw it was him. I _swear_ it, Matthew."

 _Matthew?_ he thought. _Not Uncle Mattie?_

"When people say that, they're lying," Columbia snarled at her as he stormed out the door. 

"I'm not--"

"Fuck off." He slammed the door behind him.

Oregon turned her battered face to stare pleadingly at Canada. "Matthew, you have to believe me. I would never hurt my own nephew!"

 _Fucking hell, this is really happening,_ Canada thought. He found himself on the verge of screaming. "Do I?" he asked, quietly. "Tar Baby is right, Daria. You were here when this happened, so you're going to have to tell Kate what happened. I can't, and Karsten can't. I don't think you want either him or Tar Baby to tell her what they think until you have a chance to explain how it went."

Oregon began to cry, but somewhere in the back of his mind, Canada noticed that although she sounded and looked very upset--heartbroken even--there was a distinct aura of vindictive achievement about her. Something about the entire situation was more than just a little off. 

It was completely gone off the deep end.

What the hell _was_ this?


	23. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Nearly five months after Russia's abduction of Cascadia, America is forced to realize that something beyond his control has begun to affect him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song: Disappear by Sidewalks and Skeletons

America was in agony.

For the past four months, he had gradually begun to feel worse and worse, and by the time the winter loomed, he was a mess. His head constantly pounded, and to make matters worse he had developed a deep, hacking cough that had begun to hurt. And now his left shoulder was completely unable to move. To top it all off, two of his kids were M.I.A and _none_ of them were willing to tell him anything about it. Some of them weren't even where they should be, though their people and governments were still intact and nothing seemed to be wrong with them. 

But despite his continued efforts, he couldn't reach either Oregon or Washington. Oregon's aide had answered, but he had been cagey about her whereabouts, and had finally informed America that he would not be able to further discuss the situation. Washington had not answered her house phone and her government seemed to have completely gone into lockdown. He had been unable to speak to anyone at all. Neither Idaho nor California would tell him a damn thing, though he knew they must be aware. 

_What the hell,_ he thought, _is going on here?_

Dragging himself to his favorite chair, he sank into it with a pitiful little whimper. He could barely remember the last time he had felt normal. Back in the summer, the day he had met Ivan for a surprise date in Portland. He had not expected to see the Russian there, but had been so pleasantly distracted that it had never occurred to him that he might want to ask why he was there in the first place.

"Vanya!" He had been walking into Powell's Bookstore on Burnside, and just as he turned to go to the coffee shop, he'd glanced up and spotted Russia at the checkout line.

"Ah, Alfredka," Russia had beamed. He pushed his pile of books onto the counter. America noticed that they were children's books, and blinked. Russia saw his confusion and smiled innocently. 

"The books are for Daria," he explained. "That little bastard of Gilbert and Katrina's is staying with her while his mother is busy, so I agreed to pick up a few books for him."

Surprised, America quickly scanned the titles of the books. "I didn't know that he can read Russian." He should have said that he didn't know Russia was friendly with Oregon, but at the time it didn't occur to him.

"Да, he can," Russia nodded, but he didn't seem particularly eager to talk about it. America laughed.

"Y'know, I'm actually surprised you're doing this, seeing as you and Kate are always..." He made strangle hands and mimed throttling someone. "Haha, you know? Not like you really like each other. Kinda..." now he made stabbing motions and laughed again. Russia also laughed.

"Да, it's true. But unfortunately she has smart sons. Are you here to buy a book, Alfredka?" He asked as he paid for his little haul. Unfortunately, it also didn't occur to America that Russia had said 'sons' and not just 'son'.

"Oh! Well, I planned on it, but I was gonna have a cup of coffee first. You should join me!" He wanted to show Ivan the tattoo he had gotten in Seattle. The Russian declined the coffee, but he did suggest lunch. As they left the store, America noticed a woman seated on the sidewalk, holding a sign. 

"Just trying to get a room for the night," she was calling, and she had an accent that was obviously a poor imitation of England's. "Pregnant female trying to get a room..." 

He knew she was lying about it, so he turned and went the other way. On the corner another woman sat, but she wasn't holding a sign. She was drawing something, and set up around her were several beautiful pictures of trees, clearly hand-drawn.

"Hey, those are awesome," he said. "Ivan, look at these! You draw them?"

"Yes," the woman replied, looking up. She studied him intently for a moment. "They are not prints, either."

America stared at her, then at the drawings. "Holy shit! How long does it take you to draw one of these?"

Ivan put a ten dollar note into the woman's tip jar. "I do not have a place to keep one while I am here, but I will help you," he said.

The sign-holding woman began to shout. "That woman is just a heroin addict, and you're paying for her dope!"

Russia turned to glare at her, then approached her and yanked the blanket off her legs, exposing her syringe and spoon. "I think you are needing to leave," he said. Two scruffy-looking males who had begun to shout at Russia changed their minds when they got a good look at him. Instead, they scrambled the sign-holder's belongings up and dragged her away. Several people waiting for a bus thanked Russia, who just smiled and returned to America's side.

America looked at the drawing woman, who most certainly wasn't upset by the other's accusations. "How much is one of these?" he asked.

"Between forty and sixty dollars," she said, "for these. I have smaller ones that are twenty."

America handed her a bill. "I'll pay a hundred for the one you're working on," he replied, and she looked up at him in surprise. 

"Are you sure?"

"Yes. You are not charging enough for these," America said firmly. "What's your name?" He had encountered street artists here and in other cities before, so he knew there were many reasons they worked the streets. 

"Me name's Karen," she told him. He stared at her in surprise, but when she stuck out her hand, he took it. He had been expecting her to give him a 'street name' like 'Glimmer' or 'Smiley'. Though, he noticed, she wasn't very smiley.

"Karen, I'm Alfred, and this is Ivan," he said. "When will that be finished? We're going to have lunch."

"Half hour," Karen said. "Don't go to Sizzle Pie. There are better pizza places if you want that, but I think you should try that place." She pointed down the block. "On the other side of that corner is a Thai place. Thai Peacock."

They had gone to Thai Peacock and it had been the best Thai he'd had in years. When they'd gotten back to Powell's, the woman had packed up her things and was waiting for him.

"Here you are," she said. "I sold all my stuff, man. I'm outta paper, so I gotta get more supplies."

The tree was beautiful. America had taken it back to his hotel room, and while they were there he remembered that he still had not shown Russia his tattoo. "Hey, I have something to show you," he said excitedly. "Close your eyes." He rolled up his sleeve and grinned. "Okay! Ready, set, open your eyes!" He saw the surprise on Russia's face and laughed. "Go on, read it!" Russia beamed.

"Вечно твой подсолнух," he read. America was glad he'd already had a tattoo of a sunflower around which to put the words. "Да, you have always been my sunflower," Russia said, looking very serious. They had spent the rest of the evening together at a rooftop bar overlooking the city. America had not been so happy in a long time. 

But his headache had begun that night.

And now, nearly five months later, he was in agony.

Groaning, he put his hand to his head, trying to squeeze the shooting pain away, but to no avail. The intermittent nausea he'd been experiencing recently came back in force, and he barely made it to the toilet, where he spent the next ten minutes vomiting extravagantly all over the toilet seat and the floor. He greyed out, only to be roused by the shrilling of his phone.

"Go _away,"_ he moaned, leaning weakly against the door jamb. Everything hurt his eyes, and his throat burned from the gallons of bile he'd just spewed. The phone did not, unfortunately, listen to him. It kept right. On. Ringing. By the time he'd dragged himself over to his desk, he wanted to die. 

"Alfred! What is the meaning of this?" the President shouted, before he could manage a greeting. "You have _five minutes_ to explain to me _exactly_ why there are tens of thousands of our National Guardsmen deployed to the Pacific Northwest!"

"Wh...what?" he gasped, falling abruptly into a chair. This was a joke. It _had_ to be.

The President's voice was high and trembling with rage. "Tens of thousands of troops from one; two; no, _seven_ different states; not to _mention_ tons of equipment; and there are shore batteries up and down the coast from Cape Flattery to the Columbia River! _Shore_ batteries," he repeated. "What the hell is going on out there, Alfred?"

America barely heard him. A commotion in the corridor outside his study caused him to lower the phone and stare in alarm at the two young men standing there, both looking very disheveled. "Clark. Will," he managed to say, "what are you doing here?"

From the handset came the President's voice, tinny and slightly muffled. _"ALFRED!"_

America picked it up, his eyes locked on Idaho and North Carolina, who had identical expressions of weariness on their faces. "Sorry, sir, but I'm going to have to call you back," he said, and hung up before the President could respond. 

"Dad," Idaho said, "we have a problem."


	24. Chapter 24

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song: Firefly by Johnny Hollow

A month after Cascadia's abduction Washington sat alone at her deck, wishing desperately for a cigarette. The minute he had found out that she was in fact not sick but pregnant Denmark had gone through and confiscated all her stash, making her regret telling him. However, in this situation, she couldn't afford not to tell him, because it meant too much to try and conceal. And it was far too coincidental that she was facing possible treachery at the same time. 

Now she sat there, staring out into the trees as Denmark, Prussia and Germany were seated around the table in the living room, discussing possible strategies for getting Cascadia home that didn't involve going to St. Petersburg. Washington had been adamant about that from the start. The day after it had happened, Germany and Prussia had returned, without Oregon. Washington had been adamant about that, too.

"First of all, I will _not_ be drawn out to a place where I am so far away that my home is vulnerable," she said. "Second of all, I can't afford taking the chance that it might have been through Oregon that he got to Nicholas. He may have tricked her, but it still happened on her watch. That devious bastard is just like his fucking ogre mother. He'll swoop in on this place as soon as I am gone. _Fuck_ that."

"You think he'll come here?" Prussia asked. "Why would he do that? It would be incredibly risky." 

She had scowled, staring at the map of the Northwest Coast. "Look, he's always had it in for me, and he's a fuckin psycho, but he won't hurt Nicholas physically. Believe me, I know. He couldn't even bring himself to punish me for what I did when I was his colony. And I seriously doubt Nicholas will be much affected by his emotional shit, either. I mean, I'm his mother, and I'm pretty fucked up. He's a tough kid," she insisted. "I want to get him back as soon as possible, but we're going to need help."

"I made Oregon call Pennsylvania and New York," Germany informed her. "And I made sure to speak to them myself. They have both pledged to help. New York promised to call for others."

She grunted in reply and continued to study the map. Her eyes settled on a spot on the southern coast. "Hey, Ludwig," she began, "how much do you know about coastal defenses?"

Germany's gaze fell on the map. "I built the batteries at Normandy, " he reminded her.

"How long did it take to complete? From start to finish?"

Denmark sat back and stared at her. "You mean to fortify the beaches."

She turned away from the map and looked at all of them in turn. "Not only the beaches, but the entire region. From my borders with Idaho in the east and all the way south to California. If Oregon objects to _any_ of it, I want to know."

"Okay. Why the _entire_ region? What makes you think Russia would even be interested?" Denmark wondered. "Hey, don't you _dare_ light that cigarette."

Washington grumbled at him and tossed the smoke down. "Because it is not just _me_ , or our sons, who are at stake here," she pointed out. "What has been the one thing that America has always feared, besides ghosts?"

The three nations looked at each other. Finally, Germany spoke. "Being controlled. If Russia came ashore here, and you were not prepared, he would then be able to sweep into the interior and end up right on America's doorstep."

She nodded grimly. "Most of my brothers aren't prepared for something like that. Hell, a few of them _can't_ prepare for it. But if I can somehow act as a buffer, and keep him from gaining the beaches, we can fight him off _and_ get Nicholas back. If that means preparing my citizens for possible warfare, I'll do it. I know they will not stand for anyone coming up on us."

Prussia smirked. He had always known that she was extremely intelligent, and when it came to tactics in warfare, she was surprisingly adept. Not as seasoned as himself, of course, but she was very observant and had been watching him for a very long time. "As many men and women as your brothers can bring here, Pennsylvania and I will train," he promised. 

"When will they be here?" 

"Two days," Germany replied. "Denmark and Canada have begun to set up bivouac for the troops. We can expect three thousand from New York and Pennsylvania alone."

"The camps are finished," Denmark said. "We just need to ensure that they are not noticed until it goes down."

"Yes, I am sure Russia will have spies," Washington murmured. "But America must also not find out. He refuses to believe that Russia would ever want to hurt him. Guys, this is going to sound awful, but I'm going to have to tell you that America tends not to think about my history with Russia because it goes against what he wants to believe. This is _not_ going to be easy."

Germany and Denmark glanced at each other, then at Washington. Denmark said, "Once all the manpower and supplies have arrived, we need to bring the boys home. They need to be part of this, too." 

Canada had offered to take Olympus and Columbia back to Vancouver with him, but she asked him to go with them to Victoria instead. "They need to be close," she'd insisted. "Just in case."

"Of course," Washington nodded. "This is their home, and Nicholas is their brother."

She had gone upstairs and lay down on Nicholas' bed and cried, and when Prussia came in and found her like that he had simply joined her. The next morning, neither of them said a word about it, although both Denmark and Germany knew exactly where they had been. They also knew damn well that if they were in Prussia's place, they would have done the same thing. Fuck, they had both cried anyways, and were not ashamed to admit it if someone were to ask. Washington spent much of the next two days getting ready for the arrival of thousands of people, the very idea of which stressed her out to the point of vomiting. Of course, that was now also due to the fact that she was pregnant. She finally had to escape to her favorite spot on her deck and hope that the discussion in the house didn't devolve into chaos. Germany usually had things under control, though.

Tar Baby came out onto the deck and curled around her. "I knew you were going to end up having more brats," he said. "Better hope that bitch Oregon doesn't find out."

Washington had hoped that what she suspected wasn't true. She resisted the very idea of it until it became impossible and she could deny it no longer.

Unfortunately, that also meant that she had to deal with the problem _immediately_. 

Tar Baby had first warned her in that initial telephone call that he thought Oregon might, at the very least, _know_ something about Cascadia's abduction, and when she and Denmark had arrived back at her house, Oregon was still there, nursing a badly battered face. She had begged and pleaded with Washington that she was innocent, and that Russia had tricked her. Washington truly did want to give her the benefit of the doubt. She had no doubt that Russia had indeed tricked Oregon, just not in the way her sister wanted her to think. But she needed Oregon close to figure out the truth, and if Oregon even so much as sensed the slightest bit of suspicion from her, she would bolt. 

Washington did not want Russia to figure out she was on to them. And she didn't know for certain that it was Oregon, but she had a way to find out. Yet, she waited. And it wasn't until after Idaho had pledged to help her that she finally knew she had to know for certain. Idaho and Oregon were close, but he had not spoken to her once since his arrival. He avoided both of them, but seemed particularly angry with Oregon. 

"Tar Baby, do you have that drawing you did for Nicholas?" 

"Yeah."

She stood up and they went inside. "Go get it. I'll meet you out at the spot."

Tar Baby tried to be sneaky enough to get the drawing and leave again without anyone noticing him, but Denmark and Prussia both saw him as he pulled the paper through his cat door. "Hey, wait," Denmark called. "Where are you going?"

"To meet Kate," Tar Baby replied. "Don't follow me. You might not like what she's going to be doing." He knew neither of them would listen, so he didn't bother to convince them further. "So which one of you knocked her up? You, Viking Bastard?"

"Yeah, but where are we going?" Denmark demanded as Tar Baby led them into the woods. Even though it was the middle of the afternoon, the trees blocked out all the sunlight, and the forest was hushed. "Did she really come in here?"

Tar Baby grumbled to himself and chose not to answer. They came upon a small clearing and Tar Baby ran to meet Washington, who was already waiting. Denmark looked nervously at Prussia. "She's got a knife," he whispered.

"What's that paper?" Prussia whispered back.

"I don't know," Denmark shrugged. "Maybe we should ask her." He waited, but Prussia wasn't about to get any closer. 

"No! _You_ ask her; you're her boyfriend."

Washington didn't look up. "I can hear you, you know."

Prussia winced. "We were just wondering what is on that piece of paper."

Tar Baby looked smug. "One of my favorite drawings," he declared. "Come over here and take a look." He smirked. "Don't worry; you won't burst into flames... _yet."_

Denmark and Prussia inched closer to inspect the drawing, which Washington had laid on the ground. It was little sketches of all of them, doing various things. The Prussia in the drawing was holding a chainsaw and laughing maniacally; the Denmark was being struck by lightning while holding his axe.

"Why would you draw that?" Denmark asked, horrified.

Prussia laughed. "I look fucking _awesome."_

"Would you both shut up?" Washington demanded. "And don't speak until I leave. I don't want to hurt you."

"What do you mean--" Denmark began, but Prussia clamped his hand over his mouth. Tar Baby growled at them.

 _"Shut up!_ Lucky for you this doesn't take long."

The two watched in horror as she wrapped her hand tightly around the blade of the knife, the razor sharp edge cutting in; then, she drew it harshly through her closed fist, and as blood streamed down to the ground, she held the flow over the drawing. When the blood finally ceased, she lit a flame without a match, flicking her fingers to drop the fire onto the bloody paper. Despite the dampness, it flared into a brief torrent, and when that had died she stared down at the scorched earth in silence. For a moment nobody dared even to breathe. Then abruptly she turned and walked right through them, her face absolutely terrifying in its expression of resigned determination. Prussia waited almost a minute until he removed his hand from Denmark's mouth. 

"What just happened?" Denmark demanded. "What did that show her?"

Tar Baby glared at the blackened moss. "Who the traitor is," he growled. "And I was right. It's Oregon."


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Russia realizes that he had forgotten to consider one very important part of his plan. He now must deal with a very wilful five-year-old.  
> Hopefully Washington will come after him soon.  
> Please.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song: Scentless Apprentice by Nirvana

"Why are you hiding in there _again?_ You're _shit_ at this game," the infernal voice called, from someplace much too near for Russia's liking. 

He had locked himself in his study after the boy had spent the past several hours driving him up the wall with his incessant questions. Every waking moment for the past month had been like this. The child was always talking to him, _talking_. An infernal mix of English, Danish and German was constantly streaming from his mouth. Even the books Russia had gotten for him were not enough to satisfy his inexhaustible curiosity and energy. Not only that, but every single morning, the boy woke up at the. Crack. Of. Dawn. And once his eyes were open, it wasn't long before his _mouth_ was, too. 

How did Washington _stand_ it?

"Come _ooonnnn,_ Russia, you aren't playing right," Cascadia said and _oh shit he was right on the other side of the door--_

The door began to shake with the repeated banging of Cascadia's fists, and finally, to Russia's complete horror, the door was _moving_. As if it were not made of oak, Cascadia pulled it right off the hinges. He tossed the door aside and stood in the splintered doorway, looking in at Russia with undisguised glee.

_"Found you!"_

Russia screamed, but tried to make it seem as if it were all part of the game. Why hadn't Washington contacted him with threats? Why hadn't she called to tell him she was coming to rescue her son and punish Russia?

He thought _this_ was punishment enough. 

When she finally got here, he would beg her to take her little hellspawn and he would never bother her again.

"Да, you have found me," he agreed, laughing weakly. "How...lucky for me."

Cascadia loomed even closer. "Now it's _my_ turn to hide and then you find _me!"_

 _Oh, God, please no_ , he begged silently. The last time he had agreed to that, he had easily found the boy simply by following the trail of destruction in his wake. He had forgotten to secure his weapons room and the boy had found an old battle axe that had belonged to Russia's mother. Several rooms in the house had incurred serious damage, and a mirror that had been a gift from Catherine the Great had been utterly destroyed. _That_ had been the worst discovery of all. Russia had thereupon hidden himself in his bedroom and cried. "How about we play a different game, Nikolai? Why don't we play the imagination game?"

Cascadia frowned slightly and looked at him. "What's the imagination game?"

Russia steeled himself to touch the little devil son and began to steer him from the room. He would have to ask Toris to repair the door again, he realized with a sigh. This was the third time in as many weeks. "The imagination game is where you are quiet while I go to another part of the house and drink myself to death," Russia said.

_Why aren't you tearing across the fucking Pacific Ocean to challenge me for him?_

"I don't want to play that game," Cascadia said. "I want ice cream!"

 _Oh fucking hell no._ "Nikolai, it is not a healthy thing to eat ice cream so close to bedtime," he told the boy, hoping that he wouldn't notice that it was nowhere near bedtime and he still had eight bleeding hours before sundown. Cascadia would not be put to bed while the sun was still up. Russia had made the mistake of attempting this on the first night and he had regretted it ever since. "Look," he babbled, "Toris found some art supplies! Why don't you paint a picture or draw something?" he pleaded, shooting Toris a grateful look.

Cascadia stomped over to the little table Toris had set up and sat down, but he looked over at Russia with wide, irresistible puppy eyes. _"After_ I make a picture can I have ice cream?"

 _"No!"_ Russia suddenly realized what it would be like if he gave in and allowed Cascadia to have what he wanted. That very first night, the kid had been so hopped up on something that he had not stopped bouncing off the walls until sometime the next afternoon. The little whoreson hadn't even cried for his mother once, which had come as a surprise. But now, Russia was beginning to suspect that Cascadia knew damn well what he was trying to do, and this was his insidious way of making sure Russia regretted his decision. The boy was straight from the very depths of hell. And his mother _knew_ it.

 _This is her revenge on me for taking him,_ Russia thought frantically _. She's going to_ leave _him here with me!_

But it looked like the art supplies were the right idea. Russia saw that he was actually drawing a picture. Slowly he felt himself relax as he sank down on the sofa, using a magazine to fan himself. Toris brought a tray with his beloved vodka and he took it immediately. 

"Спасибо," he murmured. He drank the vodka straight from the bottle. Toris waited, clearly needing to tell him something. "What is it, Toris?"

"He is quite a handful, isn't he?"

"Да, he is," Russia groaned, wishing for more vodka. But Toris had the stupid notion that being constantly shitfaced drunk around the boy was somehow a bad idea. "He is _horrible!_ I cannot sleep without Klonopin anymore. Hopefully his whore mother is coming to get him soon!"

Cascadia finished his colorful drawing with a huge flourish. "Haha, no she isn't!" he declared, giving them both a strangely triumphant look. "Here! I finished my drawing!" He got up and charged at the sofa, but he merely dropped the drawing in Russia's lap before spying something else to get into. Russia looked down at the drawing in his hands.

"Is it one for the refrigerator, sir?" Toris asked, a hint of a smile in his voice. 

Cascadia had drawn a field of sunflowers, with Russia standing in it and Toris in the background. The likenesses were amazing, Russia thought. Now if only the drawn version of himself wasn't being hanged from a giant, bloody sunflower by his scarf. The Toris was holding a bunch of sunflowers and smiling. A grey rainy sky topped the drawing, and it was completed by Cascadia's firm scrawl across the bottom in black crayon: _**I hatte yuo Russa now give me eiscreem.**_

Definitely _not_ one for the refrigerator magnets.

A loud bang and several shattering crashes made him clench his jaw. "That's _it,"_ he hissed. His hand tightened on the neck of the empty vodka bottle and it began to crack. "I have _had_ it! Toris, we are taking him back."

"What?" Toris stammered. "Right now?"

Russia growled in frustration. "No, not right now, because we need to be ready. I'm not just going to give him back." He glared in the direction of the newest Cascadian disaster area. _"I'm going to make her regret ever giving birth to him!"_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The torment to which Cascadia subjects Russia is actually based on something my youngest son put my brother through when I needed him to babysit. There was even a hatchet.


	26. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> America learns the true cause of, and the extent of Russia's feud with Washington, and must make a decision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song: Veil of Shadows by The Secession

America glanced up briefly as his junior aide brought a tray in. "Thank you," he said, but didn't move to take it. He waited as the young man set it down and then left before he spoke again. "So you're telling me," he began, "that for the past four months Washington has been preparing for some kind of confrontation with someone because they supposedly kidnapped her son?"

Idaho closed his eyes and counted to ten. "Pop, you need to dispense with the vague pronoun and 'supposedly' shit. I have been perfectly clear about what is going on. Washington's getting ready for shit to go down, because Russia is going to bring it to her, and the _rest_ of us! Russia kidnapped her son! _Russia_ , Pop. Not 'someone'. It's a good thing that the kid is a fucking menace, so I'm sure Russia has been miserable the whole time, the bastard."

America shook his head. "No," he said firmly. "I do _not_ believe you. Why would he do a thing like that? She's been provoking him for _years_ , Clark. Don't let her get you all tangled up in her mess. You _know...."_

"Uh uh uh, nope," North Carolina interrupted. "Nah, Pop, getcho head out yer ass _now_. She hasn't done shit to him since the goddamn war ended. More like, her mere existence has been pissin him off."

Idaho grunted. "She's never forgotten that he rejected her, either."

"You _both_ know what she did," America protested. "The settlement! They all starved to death!" He paused, struggling to keep his gorge down. When he felt in control again, he continued. "What she did was uncalled for." He gave Idaho a triumphant look. "And I know damn _well_ why he really gave her to Scotland. She drowned Belarus!"

Idaho slammed his fist into the back of America's sofa, making everyone jump. "Did you _ever_ bother to ask her the reason why she did that?"

 _"Reason!_ Why would you even _care_ about that?" America shouted. "Natalya _still_ can't speak properly!"

Shaking his head, Idaho clenched his teeth. "Even _now_ the first thing you mention is Belarus, not what Washington's reasons may have been."

"What?"

Idaho glared at him. "You just heard a rumor and believed it because it made her sound like the psycho killer and poor big brother Russia like the innocent victim. You've _always_ done that. The entire time Washington has been part of this fuckin _family_ you've done it. And now this entire country is in _danger_ and it's all because _you_ couldn't be bothered to learn the truth!"

"No!" America shouted. "The country's in _danger_ because _Washington_ took it upon herself to whore around with my allies, plotting against me with three of my closest friends and my own _brother_ , for over a hundred goddamn years! She has _never_ wanted to be part of this family. She has made that _abundantly_ clear. Now she has _three_ sons, one of whom _may_ have been--"

 _"You idiot!"_ Idaho shouted back. "There's no _'may have'!_ Cascadia is _gone!_ Your precious _Russia_ took him, and that isn't even the _worst_ part!" He forced himself to calm down. "Has it ever occurred to you at all that there just might be a reason for all this fucking mess? Because there is a reason, and it's a fucking important one. You want an explanation, huh? You think nothing special ever happened to us before you came along? Well let me tell you, plenty happened to Washington before you even showed up on the scene and none of it was good!"

"Who told you there was a reason? Washington? And you just took her side?"

"Nobody told me. I know."

America scowled at him and turned away. "Only a total goddamn psychopath would even try to justify this kind of behavior."

"Yes," Idaho agreed, much to his surprise. "Washington has always been that way, Pop. I don't think she's ever tried to pretend otherwise. Even back when we were littles. You really have no idea, do you? You're really that clueless. Hey, Will?" He turned to look at North Carolina. "Remember when we met Olympus and Columbia and you wanted to know how they could all be blonds?"

"Yup," North Carolina nodded. "Thought it was fuckin weird that none of them had red hair."

America stared at Idaho. "What the hell does that have to do with what's going on out there?"

"Everything," Idaho replied. "That bitch...so, Pop, Oregon--that fucking bitch always made a huge deal about being the older sister and the responsible one, but it's not true. Washington is the oldest, and I'm older than both of them, so don't listen to anything anyone says different. That fucking bitch," he repeated. "Goddamn her, that infuriating twat invented upspeak just to piss me and Kate off...'Ummm?? Yeah so I only eat eggs from free range chickens?' ...who the fuck thinks talking like you're constantly asking questions is acceptable? Fucking bitch." He jumped when North Carolina tapped his shoulder. "Oh, anyway, when we were littles, before anyone found us, Kate's hair wasn't red. It was white."

 _"Ha!"_ North Carolina yelled. "I knew it. She dyes her hair! What, you catch her in the act? Jesus Christ, is _that_ why you guys been pissed at each other for so long?" He scoffed. "I fucking knew it would be something stupid."

Idaho growled in frustration. _"No!_ And that's not why. I'll get to that too, believe me. You might find this a little hard to accept, Pop, but you're about to learn the truth about Washington and Oregon. It's not nice."

"Washington has never been nice," America pointed out.

Idaho sighed. "Goddamn it Pop, are you going to let me tell this? All right. You don't know this, because there's never really been a reason _for_ you to know it, but I think you should have asked. I would have told you, even if Washington would not have. You might not know by looking at us, but we're older than _you,_ Pop. Goes me, Washington and then Oregon, even if Oregon lied and told you she was older. She looked older, and her land is older, but that doesn't mean anything. Anyway, when you got her and Washington from England she was already pretty much grown, but when Russia had her, we were all littles."

"Scotland told me she had red hair when Russia gave her to him," America interrupted. "He said he thought it was why Russia picked him."

"Yeah, Pop, whatever," Idaho shrugged. "He just wanted to get as far away from her as he could. Really, he should have known it wouldn't end well between them, seein as what went down before, but...but then again...he was barely a baby when it happened. Russia wasn't the first one to find her," Idaho explained. "Actually, a little known fact is, Scandia found her first."

"Scandia? You don't mean Ancient Scandia? Papa--Sweden and Denmark's father?" America shook his head, once again feeling deathly ill. "How is that even _possible?"_

North Carolina snorted. "You really are an airhead," he said. "Pop, I can't believe you didn't know that. Hell, even _I_ know about that! Why do you think she actually sought Denmark out, of all nations, for her first diplomatic voyage? And why do you think all them Scandinavian settlers picked her? Jesus, you _are_ slow."

"Will! Knock it off," Idaho said, grimly. "He found her first. You're right, Pop, Kate's never been nice, but she _was_ nice to him, _and_ she wanted to get to know him. There was nice weather off the coast and all. She even let him pick her up and carry her and she showed him all the land off the coast. He would have been ideal to settle her," Idaho said wistfully, "but before he could return with more people, something happened." He pressed his mouth into a thin line and took a deep breath. "You're going to have to bear with me, 'cause this isn't easy for me to talk about. Fuck, I need a drink." North Carolina brought him a flask and he drank all of it at once. "Goddamn, I haven't talked about this since it happened, man." He looked up and met America's eyes. "Your shoulder hurt?"

America winced. "I can't move it."

Idaho nodded. "There's a reason. But first this lovely tale, huh? Scandia was sweet with Kate, and Oregon and I both could tell that she trusted him. It was obvious that he wasn't going to hurt her. He did come back, just like he promised her. This time he didn't bring settlers, because it was the wrong time of year for it, but he brought his sons and some of his other family. Oregon was shy, so I stayed with her and watched Washington--I mean she wasn't Washington back then. I watched Kate chase Denmark and Sweden around and she was actually _laughing_. They were just _little,_ man. And when they had to leave Denmark cried because he didn't want to leave her, and Scandia had to pull them apart and carry him away. You could hear him screaming for miles." His brow furrowed. "But Denmark and Sweden weren't the only ones who were there that day. Scandia also brought his sister."

Dread pooled with the nausea in America's stomach and he stood quickly, unable to stop the _urk-urk-urk_ that seemed to be his most favorite sound these days. Idaho waited patiently while he enthusiastically emptied his stomach of its nonexistent contents. 

"His _sister?"_ He shakily drank a glass of water and sat down, because his legs just couldn't support him. "I thought that he only had brothers."

Idaho snorted softly. "Consider this your lesson on the Ancients, then. Scandia had two brothers, and their sister was Kievan Rus."

America couldn't catch his breath, and for several terrifying seconds he truly thought he was going to suffocate. "Russia's mother," he managed at last. Everyone knew of the legendary cruelty of the one who had birthed Russia, Belarus and Ukraine. It was so horrible that nobody dared speak of it aloud. "What does _she_ have to do with it?"

"She's the reason, Pop," Idaho said tersely. 

"Betrayal," North Carolina murmured. 

"She turned on her brother," Idaho went on. "She insisted that he bring her with him the next time he went to see her, and she brought her children. Then, when Katie came out to meet Scandia, Kievan Rus stabbed him in the back and had the children hold him down while she grabbed Katie and took her from him. And poor Kate just screamed and screamed. I _never_ heard her scream like that, not before and not since. And Scandia couldn't do a thing to help her, because he was held at knifepoint, and Kievan Rus threatened to kill Kate if he tried anything." He took a shaking breath. "Kate made us stay out of sight, but I made sure that I could see what was going on. Kievan Rus tried to take control of Kate using force, tried to subjugate her with violence. But you know that she won't let anyone just walk all over her."

"Nuh-uh," North Carolina agreed. "Bitch was takin stupid to a whole new level thinkin that."

Idaho shuddered. 

"Well?" America demanded, angrily. "Aren't you going to tell me what happened?"

"Fuck you, Alfred," Idaho snarled. "I'm fucking _getting_ to it. This ain't a happy ending everyone happy story."

"Story ain't even over yet," North Carolina added.

Idaho got up and paced the floor, deep in thought. There was really no way to ease into it, he knew. It was violent and ugly and it was only getting worse. Seven hundred years of back and forth were about to explode. "Kievan Rus began to torture her," he sighed. "Every time she defied her. Which was _always_. But it came to a head...Jesus Christ. ...Finally, Kievan Rus forced her to watch as she killed all the men and boys that had come with Scandia. She wanted to make it hers, so she slaughtered them and made her watch. Fucking hell, she was _so little._ And _still_ she wouldn't do what Kievan Rus wanted. Crops kept failing, and the fish wouldn't run, and the big game stayed away. 

"Finally Kievan Rus decided that it was too much effort. She'd tried to _burn_ Katie, _drown_ her, _hang_ her--she tried almost anything you could think of to get her to bend. But Katie wouldn't. And then Kievan Rus heard that there was something else. That Katie wasn't alone. She heard about _Oregon_. And she figured that Oregon would be easier to handle. She sent out a scouting party, and as soon as Kate found out where they were going, she panicked. I couldn't get to Oregon without risking my own safety, so Kate did the only thing she could.

"She called on Lawetlat'la to destroy the scouting party, and they were all incinerated along with their boat," Idaho went on, his voice shaking. "Oh, fucking hell. I was so _scared_ , man. I knew it was only a matter of time before the stupid bitch figured out what had happened, but at least Oregon was safe. I took her and we hid, but Katie wouldn't hide. I begged her to, but she refused. And she paid a _very_ high price for that." He stopped, breathing heavily, and began to weep. "When Kievan Rus found out what she had done, she took her sword and cut Kate's head nearly clean off," he sobbed. "And _left_ her like that. As _punishment_. I found her and brought her to the beach where nobody would find us so that she could heal. It took a long time." He wiped his face, which bore all the pain of the memory of what he had seen that day. "It took an even longer time for her to be able to speak again, and that's when Tar Baby came. He was her voice until she could talk again. He also told her a _very_ important secret." He looked up at America. "He told her about Kievan Rus' one weakness. And it was a _big_ one."

"The woman was _evil_ ," America protested. "She _had_ no weaknesses."

Idaho gave him an odd look. _"Every_ nation has weaknesses, Pop. What, you think that the Ancients all just decided to fade away? Hah! No, they all had weaknesses, but most of them knew not to make it obvious. Most of them were intelligent enough to know better than to assume they were untouchable, too."

"Not this dumb bitch," North Carolina muttered. 

"You know about the horrible things Kievan Rus did," Idaho mused, "but you don't know that despite all her cruelty, all the psychological horror and the torture she subjected others to--even her own kin--she wasn't very strong. I mean physically, her body was fragile. She could deal blows and fight, but she had to wear heavy armor to protect herself. And Kate found out that she didn't sleep wearing that armor." He paused, gauging America's reaction to his story. "I'm not going to apologize for telling you this, because you need to know."

America put his head in his hands. "Oh my _God,_ Clark. That _scar_...I didn't know. God damn it, I didn't _know!"_

"Kate went to Kievan Rus' house and found her sleeping," Idaho continued. "I stood at the door watching for anyone that might see, but nobody was around. I saw the entire thing." He swallowed around the sudden lump in his throat. "I knew it was going to be bad the minute Kate walked through that door. She went right up to where she was sleeping and grabbed her up by her hair so fast that she didn't even have time to defend herself. Not that anything she did would have helped her at this point. Kate told me to stay quiet and keep away, because she didn't want to hurt me. And I watched her bind Kievan Rus. These black tendrils, like smoke almost, wrapped around her wrists and made them bleed if she struggled. Katie pulled her up so that she was on her knees and they were the same height. Kievan Rus was screaming for her to let her go, but it was past that now. She was frozen in place there. And Kate sort of leaned in, like she was going to tell her something, but she didn't say a word. She _smiled_ at her. And I didn't want to look but I couldn't even close my eyes. So I saw Katie punch a hole right into Kievan Rus' chest, and she tore out her heart while it was still fucking beating and she fucking _ate_ it right there, man. The horrid ogre was still screaming, and then Katie took the same sword that Kievan Rus had used on her, and she decapitated her. There was a massive earthquake," he remembered. "All of the people were killed. And when the dust cleared, Kate's hair was as red as blood." He ran his hands through his own hair. "It was nearly four hundred years before Russia came and tried to settle her. She was waiting for him _all_ that time. And now here we are, and Russia has no fucking idea that she's the one who killed his mother. He stole her son, Pop. One of them isn't going to survive this, and do you _really_ think that Washington has been through all this shit with him just to let him come back and try to use the boy as leverage?"

"No. I don't know. Goddammit I don't know _what_ to think!" America shouted. He rose to his feet, but when he tried to lift his left shoulder, it still didn't move. Silently he considered this and what it might mean. He thought of his children, and how innocent they were in all of this. All the citizens who had asked for none of it. His children, who had often teased and avoided her. And yet several of them had gone to their sister's aid, for she _was_ their sister, even if not by the same beginnings. He thought of Washington, and the little one held by Ivan, and knew he had to do something. Clark was right. It could _not_ be allowed to embroil the whole nation.

"Take me out there," he commanded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lawetlat'la is the Cowlitz name for Mount St. Helens. Washington is an extremely volcanic state, and some of its active volcanoes are among the top five most dangerous in the United States. Mount St. Helens is number two, followed by Mt. Rainier. Signs of imminent volcanic activity include changes in wildlife behavior, disrupted migration patterns and frequent earthquakes. Bees have also been observed acting strangely weeks before an eruption, so if a society relied heavily on pollination for certain crops, it's possible that could affect it, though unlikely.  
> Washington is just showing her hatred for a sadistic thief by killing the crops.


	27. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Washington gets a wake-up call. Denmark handles her PTSD like a boss. Tar Baby shows his claws.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song: Something In the Way by Nirvana

Scotland was usually on top of the time difference between himself and Washington, but when he had been drinking, he tended to forget. So when her phone began to ring at just past two in the morning, Washington tried to ignore it. The problem was, it was on the nightstand and Denmark was on that side of the bed. And Denmark always answered the phone. He gently shook her more awake and handed it to her. She glared at it before she spoke.

"Fuck you," she groaned, sitting up and scrubbing at her face. 

"And a guid morn tae ye," her papa replied. 

She yawned. "Papa, it's barely two in the morning here. Why can't you call at a more normal time?" She struggled to get out of bed, but she was already much too large to do it with much grace. Damn Denmark, she thought. This would have to be twins. And they were always kicking her around. "What's going on?"

"Have yis heard from Alfie yet?" Scotland asked.

"No," Washington said. "Not a damn thing. Why would he care about this? As long as we keep Russia and his mongoloid horde off his front porch, I'm good." She made her way to the window and looked out. In the darkness she could make out the silhouettes of the now-completed anti-aircraft batteries lining the ridge. Germany and California had worked nonstop to get them operational from the coast to the Cowlitz River, and from Cape Flattery to the mouth of the Columbia. 

"Yer bein fuckin selfish noo," Scotland chided.

"I'm being selfish? Why should I care how he's feeling with all this? It isn't happening to him." Washington stared down at her right hand, noticing the stains she still couldn't seem to remove. Even after all these weeks the blood was still there. "It's not his son who's been taken."

"Nae, but he has lost a dochter, lass. An hoo ye felt when Japan went an bombed him? Nearly lost yer arm, innit? But ye wis able tae heal, an ye built mair planes and ships. Noo think on how Alfie is feelin. Jist loch ye."

"So? Then he'll cope. Whatever part of him is injured--"

"Except it doesnae grow back!" Scotland shouted. "Japan took and broke yer arm and ye wis able tae build mair armaments tae heal. But this is different, lass. He cannae build another Oregon. She's gone."

Washington curled her hand into a fist. 

"How can I help him? He didn't do a thing for me after that fucking slant bastard--"

"He couldnae help ye because he was tryin tae save us," Scotland cut her off. "It had naught tae dae with him no given a shit aboot ye. He said it himself, lass: he knew y'd dae what ye needed tae dae. He trusted ye and he was right tae. Lass. Katie," he added, his voice softening. "I didne want to gi' ye up. Ye kennit. I couldnae take care o' ye nae mair, lass. But Alfie stepped in tae help. If he hadnae, yis woulda been gien tae Spain. It woulda killed me tae lose ye tae that Catholic bastard." Scotland paused. "There won't be another Oregon, but there's ye, and yer boys. It's up tae yis what comes next."

Washington stood quietly, feeling her body moving with each breath. For once, the babies within were fairly still. They tended to sleep only during the wee hours of the morning, and once Denmark was awake, the sound of his voice had their attention. California, being a know it all, had tried to tell her that they wouldn't be able to hear and recognize voices yet, but he had changed his mind after Washington had invited him to put his hands on her belly and then had Denmark and Prussia scream back and forth, with Prussia starting it so that California couldn't say it was just the noise. 

"Are ye listening tae me, lass?"

"Yeah. It's just fucking early," Washington muttered. Behind her, Denmark was getting ready for morning drill. God, it was already time for that? She frowned. It seemed like it was happening earlier each week. Sure enough, when she went down to the front deck and looked across, she could see Pennsylvania and Prussia rousing the troops. Pennsylvania was saddling a horse, and she knew that he was going down into the south to train the civilians. Last week she had asked them to stop using their motor vehicles unless it was necessary. Germany had already caught three spies working as highway patrol. Luckily, none of them had managed to collect any intel, but that didn't mean they would stop trying.

They would keep at it until either she broke or Russia was sent to hell.

"I have to go," she managed to say before she dropped the phone on the floor and fled for the toilet. But there was nothing to vomit. She knelt with her forehead resting on the wall, shaking so hard that she couldn't even stand. Denmark came to her side and gently helped her up.

"There's snow possible," he told her, his voice as calm as if he were merely talking about a normal day and there wasn't a war looming. "If I have time I'll help the boys build a snow fort. I went and promised them. I forgot how much they like to remember things." He walked her into the kitchen where he'd already prepared breakfast. "Did you know that New York is afraid of cats?"

She took a few deep breaths and stared down at her hands. Even though she had scrubbed and scrubbed, she could still see traces of blood in her cuticles. "I can't get the blood off," she said, her voice jerking. "No matter how many times I wash my hands her blood is still there."

"Yeah, it's tough to get those stains out," he replied easily, "but luckily for you, I know how it's done. My father showed me. Here, take this coffee, and just drink it and I'll show you in a minute." As he moved around the kitchen he continued to talk to her about nothing in particular, and soon she had finished her coffee and forgotten all about her hands, which Denmark knew were spotless. He had helped her wash them after it had happened, and he'd made sure to get every last speck of Oregon's blood off her hands. 

Finally he was ready to go. "I'll be at the beach today, if you want to come down and watch us." He stood in the doorway, hesitant. "Look, nobody is going to blame you for what you had to do, elskede. We've all been there. Every single one of us has had to make terrible decisions, and anyone who says differently is lying. It never gets any easier. But you do learn to accept it."

"Mathias," she called, just before he shut the door, "I'm glad you're here."

He flung the door open and raced back inside, throwing his arms around her so tightly that she couldn't move. "I knew it," he crowed. "You do appreciate me. Jeg elsker dig, Kate." 

"Okay. Okay, now get off," she exclaimed. "Jesus Christ, Dane. You're just as clingy as you were when I first met you." She frowned, unsure where she'd suddenly gotten this from. Yet she was positive that the trip to København with Scotland had not been their first meeting. Ever since that dream of Scandia, she had had the distinct feeling that she had forgotten something important. There was no time to talk about it now. "Now on with you. You're going to be late!"

He smirked and looked down at her in triumph. "I knew you'd remember eventually. Come down to the beach this afternoon. Bring Tar Baby. Oh and Gil is going to come get the boys at six sharp, so if ya gotta wake em up, be loud."

"Yeah sure, whatever," she said, eager for him to leave so she could go back to bed. That, however, turned out to be out of the question, because no sooner had he shut the door behind him, the phone began ringing again.

"Who the fuck's calling here at three-thirty in the goddamn morning?" She growled. 

"...Hi mama."

Washington nearly dropped the phone. "Nicholas? Oh baby, is that you?" It better not be a sick joke of Russia's, she was about to add.

"Yes," Cascadia said. "I just wanted to say hi. Um, we're on a boat. I'm not having very much fun, though. Russia won't let me play with the toys and he keeps hiding in his room. He says he's seasick, but I think he's lying. I never hear him throwing up," the boy added. "He just stays in his room and cries whenever I ask him to play a game with me."

Washington felt a swell of pride. No doubt the dumb fuck was regretting his stupidity. "Don't worry, little lion heart. I know for a fact Russia wants to play, but he's just not ready. Just keep checking in with him. Be patient."

"Okay. I'm coming home, Mama." He gave an exaggerated gasp. "Uh oh! Mr. Lithuania is coming after me with a big scary fluffy kitty! It can't talk, though," he added. "I gotta go. I'll see you soon!" 

He hung up before she could respond, but she didn't care. Her baby was safe. He was giving Russia hell. And they were en route this very minute.

They were coming.

She dashed upstairs and woke both boys, who were not at all thrilled with her. Neither was Tar Baby, who happened to be curled up in the crook of Jens' legs when she rousted them. "C'mon, kitty, get up," she ordered.

"No," Tar Baby groaned, but she picked him up and carried him downstairs. "Will you please do me a huge favor?" she asked. "Prussia is going to be here at a quarter to six to take the boys out to drills. Go with them."

"Urgggh, why," Tar Baby complained. "Fine, damn it." He stretched and curled his front legs around her neck. "Where's Damnmark?"

"Hey," Washington chided. "Stop being an asshole, would you?"

The cat put his head on her shoulder. "Oh, whatever, Kate. I guess he's okay. He's put up with you for damn near your whole life, so that's got to mean something, right?" He looked around suddenly as they stood in the kitchen. "Kate," he added, "listen. Listen," he growled when she started to protest. He stared out the window and hissed softly. "Turn the lights off! Quickly, all lights off."

"Tar Baby, would you--"

"Shut up!" He leapt onto the table, watching the door intently, and jumped to the windowsill, where he would be unseen by anyone without a flashlight. "Don't move, Kate."

There was a shadow outside the door. Washington felt ridiculously exposed, just standing in the center of the pitch-black kitchen, but she didn't want to be seen by whatever was outside. Tar Baby let out a low growl that rose in volume as the doorknob began to turn, and as the door opened, he raised a paw, extending lethal claws. As the dark figure of a man slipped into the kitchen, he struck with no hesitation.

Screaming, the man clutched at his face, running into the wall. Washington ran to the light switch and pushed it up, flooding the kitchen with much-needed light. "Tar Baby, stop," she exclaimed as he went in for another slash. "Fucking hell, Alexander, are you okay? What are you doing here?"

New York stood bent over in agony, clutching his bleeding face. "Oh my God," he yelled. "My eye!"

"Fuck!" Washington swatted Tar Baby when he tried to rub against her. "Goddamn it, go get bandages and shit. Right now."

"Wow, what happened?" Jens and Karsten stood in the hallway, both carrying baseball bats. Karsten's, Washington noticed, had nails in it. "Hey, Uncle Alex. Oh, shit," Jens added. "Did Tar Baby scratch you?"

Groaning, New York fell into a chair. "That fuckin demon cat just about took my eye out," he said. "Fuck me, man. Goddamn. What the fuck, Katie?"

"I'm so sorry, Alex," she said, snatching the bandages and ointment from Tar Baby. "He's usually better at knowing who poses a threat. I don't know what the fuck just happened."

Glaring at Tar Baby, New York waited while she dressed his wound. "Well, I do," he insisted. "That little demon knows I'm afraid of cats! He knew it was me out there. I could see him watching me from the window. I know he can see perfectly fine in the dark."

Tar Baby sniffed and looked away. "Whatever, shouldn't be lurking around outside in the dark."

"I wasn't lurking, you little asshole!"

Tar Baby yawned. "Skulking, then."

New York scowled and took the cup of coffee Washington offered. "You little shit."

"Tar Baby, would you please apologize to him?"

"No," Tar Baby yowled. "Fuck yooooou," he added in his creepiest growl. 

"Get out of here now," Washington snapped, as the boys decided that the show was over and joined their uncle at the table. Tar Baby stalked out of the kitchen, but made sure New York could see him from the living room. He crouched down on the back of the couch, staring in at him. 

"Im'a kill you," he whispered, when Washington wasn't paying attention. He laughed to himself at the look of fear in the Empire State's eyes. "Not such a tough guy, eh?"

"Tar Baby, stop," Kate insisted. "Remember, you're going with them today. If you keep this shit up, I'm going to tell Prussia to throw you into the ocean."

"Fuck you will," Tar Baby yelled. She stalked up to him and grabbed his face, touching noses. 

"Then knock. It. Off," she ordered. "Quit being such a mean kitty. Or I just might send you to stay with Marshmallow."

Tar Baby fled. 


	28. Chapter 28

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> America gets a look at a new landscape and makes a startling discovery about Washington.  
> Germany is in charge.  
> Horses are used.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song: Himbeeren by Lord of the Flyez X Fraunhofer

"I still don't see why we can't take my own plane up," America said as they boarded North Carolina's modified Beechcraft. There were additions and improvements that he couldn't remember seeing before, and he ran a hand over the side of the plane. "What have you done to her, Will? Are these armored panels?"

"Yup," North Carolina called from the cockpit. "Sorry, Pop, but it's safer if we take mine. Yours won't be recognized, and that can be a problem. I'm a known friendly."

 _A known...?_ In disbelief America stared at Idaho, who gave him an apologetic half-smile as he briefly patted America's lame shoulder. 

"There are a few things that are a bit different now," he said. "Hey, look out the windows if you can stomach it, Pop, so you can start getting an idea of what's going on out there." He then opened a trunk and began to assemble a rifle. "Just in case," he explained at America's incredulous expression. 

Not wanting to think about what the 'just in case' might entail, America turned his attention to the window, but for the first few hours nothing seemed amiss. But then, halfway between Chicago and the coast, he began to notice little things here and there that he was quite sure had not been there the last time he'd come through. At different points along the major arteries, watchtowers now stood, and once they crossed the Rocky Mountains, the watchtowers were manned. Further west, America began to see an even more ominous change: ordinary citizens carrying weapons. They looked calm and everyday, just with carbines slung over the shoulder on a walk with dog, or shotguns held casually in one hand while pushing a baby in a carriage with the other. 

At Idaho's western border, North Carolina turned south. A familiar scratchy voice faintly reached America's ears, calling for Will to identify. _Prussia?_ America thought. What the hell was he doing here? As North Carolina gave his call sign and coordinates, America stared down at the landscape rolling out beneath him. He knew exactly where he was, so he also knew that there should be Oregon's border crossing marked by her flag, but the familiar blue banner was gone, replaced by a different flag entirely. America stared at it, alarmed. It was not one of his states' flags, but he felt as if he had seen it somewhere before. That white X, and the weapons in the raven's talons. Where had he seen that? The sign that heralded travelers into Oregon from Idaho was also gone. It had been replaced with a black square. America swallowed hard, beginning to have the distinct feeling of being in an entirely different country. _Nerves,_ he told himself. _This is Oregon, she's just hiding for some reason--_

"We goin up the coast now," North Carolina announced. "Pay attention, Pop. " 

America gasped as the beach came into view. It was the end of Autumn, so the beaches would be deserted of vacationers, but these beaches were entirely hostile to anyone looking to relax. Beginning at Newport, the approaches were barricaded with dragons teeth, and the sands strewn with anti-tank spikes. As they neared the Columbia River, he let out a yell of surprise. He couldn't help it. Massive shore batteries formed a triangle at the river mouth, and two gunboats blocked the path just beyond the sandbar. 

The armaments weren't the only thing, either. "There are so many troops here," America breathed. He noted the different flags on each unit. "California, Pennsylvania, New York, Idaho, North Carolina, Texas...what the hell?" Will turned slightly inland and skirted the bay into the Nemah area, following the tributaries. "Deep River, Grays River and Naselle are all through here, but I just want to show you something real quick and then we'll go back to the beach," Idaho said. "Look there." He gestured and America looked out his window to see Pennsylvania drilling a large group of civilians. As they got a little closer, America realized that he was looking at children, some as young as ten. 

_Oh, no_ , he thought, his chest tightening. He could see their faces from where he was, and they looked grim and terrible and much too young. _Oh, Katie._

They turned away from the heartbreaking sight and headed west again. As North Carolina prepared to land, he caught sight of a familiar figure standing on the bluff overlooking one of the obstacle courses. Behind him, Guardsmen were drilling a charge down to the beach below. America saw with admiration that they seemed sure-footed even in loose sand, not an easy feat. He knew Germany must have been drilling these men relentlessly for weeks.

"Sorry, Pop, but I got my guys here, so I can't take you back," Will said, but he didn't sound sorry at all. "C'mon, let's go check in with Germany."

"Clark!" America hissed. He grabbed Idaho's arm. "What the hell is Germany doing commanding those Guardsmen? Aren't these Oregon's?" 

Idaho and North Carolina exchanged a tense look. "Uh, well...you see, the thing is, Oregon isn't. ...here anymore," Idaho said. America felt that good old nausea again and wished he had never gotten out of bed. Clark either didn't notice his discomfort or simply ignored it. He kept right on talking. "Washington had to, uh...deal with a situation that could have been very nasty. Look, if you want to know what happened, you are going to have to ask her. She's got the riverlands on this side now too. I guess all of it down to California. But, uh...she's given Germany temporary jurisdiction down here."

The pain in America's left shoulder flared to life once more and he nearly vomited. As he turned away from Clark he saw that Germany was coming towards him. Surprised, America could only stare for a moment. Germany was wearing the uniform that had made him so terrifying during the war, minus the red armband. His hair, which he'd allowed to grow out slightly, was once again cut to precision, slicked back and perfect. 

"Amerika," he greeted tersely. "You have come to be briefed on the situation?"

"Yes," he snapped, although he had not been aware of the situation at all until ten o'clock the night before. "How many men do we have, and what more can we expect?"

As Germany explained that no more men would be coming, America gazed across the river and could see that the batteries ran all the way up the coast. In the water, a single patrol ship sped north, its new flag fluttering ominously. "Will we have air support?" he managed to ask.

"Air support will be minimal, except in the event of a sea or an inland engagement," Germany replied. "The beaches are too narrow and ecologically fragile. Our men would not have adequate distance to take cover, in any case. Those dunes," he added, "are to be Russia's only path inland if he manages to take the beaches. His men will sink out here, and if he manages to get ashore on the other side of the river, his men won't make it to the towns." He spread out a map and circled the Long Beach Peninsula. "The dunes here are covered in elephant grass," he explained, tapping the map. "During the war, Japan attempted to come ashore here and regretted it. The few men who survived the grass were captured and tortured by children who lived there. Eighty years later, the same families live there, and the grandchildren of those children have their own families who are eager to defend their home. And the grass has only grown." He gestured to the north. "That grass cut Japan's men to ribbons. There was no way he could have known. It just looks like ordinary grass." He straightened and turned towards the sound of a rapidly approaching horse. Its rider dismounted even before it came to a complete stop.

"What are you fucking doing here?" Washington snapped, whipping the helmet from her head so she could glare at America better. "Will, what the fuck, man."

"Hey, whatever, Kate," North Carolina retorted. "He should be here."

She grumbled at him and quickly handed her horse to one of the Guardsmen. She then braced her lower back with both hands and America saw with some surprise that the reason she was moving so awkwardly was because she was clearly pregnant. "He needs water," she barked at the soldier. She turned to Germany and grimaced. "I just rode nonstop down here from Taholah, so this better be important."

Stepping slightly away from the others, Germany guided her over to the field mess and began telling her something, a very serious expression on his face. America watched them curiously. As they spoke, Germany kept his hand on her lower back, and every once in a while would move it in a circular motion, as if trying to soothe her. America wished he could hear what they were saying. Finally Washington turned her head and sent him a narrow-eyed look, but she didn't have the same hostility as before. Germany said something to her that made her scoff loudly in derision, and as the two of them returned to the group, she actually chuckled. 

"That dumb fuck. Well, let's see if he even tries it." She stopped at America's side and swatted his good arm briefly. "All right. You're here, now what?"

America looked over at Germany, who was now discussing something with a Guardsman America recognized as Sergeant Bender, Oregon's current aide de camp. "I want to know what happened," he began. She shook her head.

"Not gonna talk here, Alfred. Ask me later. I need to get back to Matthew."

"Wait," he gasped. "Mattie's here?"

"Of course," she said. "We're going to need somewhere to retreat if shit goes bad. He's got enough to support us." She somehow managed to get into the saddle without help, but before she rode north, she circled him. "So, what are you going to tell your boss?" she asked finally, and he groaned, facepalming.

He had forgotten all about the President.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There really is murder grass on the Southern Washington coast. Touch it and you can cut your arm off.


	29. Chapter 29

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Washington finally confesses to America what happened with Oregon.  
> America is compared to a meme. Russia's fleet is spotted off the coast of Alaska.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song: Il Tramonto (the Sundown) by Ennio Morricone

In all the years she had been one of his, he had never once been inside Washington's home, and he now felt very out of place, and strangely foreign. He had been to her cities and mountains and beaches before, and while it had always felt slightly otherworldly to him, it had never felt like he was a stranger in a strange land. Prussia had offered to let him billet with him and his men, but Washington had insisted he stay at the house. 

So after everyone had settled into their evening routines, he had ridden with Denmark north to Washington's house. The entire journey they were shadowed by her black cat, who twice alerted them to suspicious activity. Both times turned out to be people with no good reason for being there, and they had to stop and wait for a team of Guardsmen to take the men in for questioning with Prussia. By the time they reached the house, America was emotionally exhausted.

How had it come to this? How had all this happened?

More importantly: How had all this happened without him knowing?

The house was warm, and after he saw to America having eaten, Denmark went out to put the horses in for the night. The house was so quiet. Even though it was only twenty-hours, it felt much later and he was tempted to just go to sleep. He wandered into the living room and stopped in surprise, hardly expecting to see Washington sitting in the windowsill, and when he turned to leave, she spoke. "Stay."

As always, the sound of her voice made him uneasy. Before he had learned of her past with Kievan Rus, he had always assumed that the raspy quality of her voice was due to her smoking, but now that he knew the truth, and also because she hadn't been smoking for months now, he knew it was from the injury Russia's mother had inflicted upon her. America knew a few nations who had survived beheading; Denmark and Prussia were two of them. But to his knowledge he had never heard of any that had had to heal from a deliberate near-decapitation when they were only a little one. He couldn't decide which was worse, and finally he thought that it didn't really matter. It was more horrible because she had been a little one then, unable to defend herself properly. 

She didn't turn to look at him. "Go on, ask me. I know it's eating you alive, Alfred."

He cleared his throat and noticed for the first time that she looked much more pregnant than she had earlier that afternoon, probably because she was no longer wearing BDUs. "Where's Oregon?"

She gave him a sour look. "Oh, fuck you. I thought you wanted to ask me if I was pregnant." For a minute they stared at each other, and she finally let out a low sigh. "I thought it would have been obvious, Alfred. When you flew in and saw the flags." She nodded towards his left. "Your shoulder, too. I had hoped that I wouldn't have to tell you."

He winced. "Well, call me clueless, Katrina. But I need to know from you what happened. Especially after I saw Germany in command of Oregon's Guardsmen." 

Turning back to the window, Washington hummed softly in response. "He's getting close, Alfred. I'm afraid he'll be here in a few days. I hope you're ready."

"Kate, I need to know what happened."

It was clear to him that she didn't want to tell him about it. "I had to kill her," she began. "She let Russia take Nicholas. And she was planning on letting him ashore at Seaside. Good thing I caught her little mole before he could get away."

"Germany told me about that," America managed to say, before he finally had to sit down right where he stood. "Kate, please tell me you don't mean it. You just wounded her, right? She's just had to go somewhere to heal."

"No, my mother had to kill her."

Surprised, America turned towards the stairs. Washington did not, but when she spoke, her voice was warm, like a caress. "You need to get some rest while you can, Jens."

"Mor, du skal fortæller ham det," the boy insisted. America was taken by how much he looked like Denmark. Washington's eye color, but everything else was all Denmark. He was looking at America with open curiosity. 

"Det ved jeg, Jens, men det er ikke let for mig." She met America's gaze. "It isn't easy for me to tell." She turned and beckoned to her son, who went to her and hugged her. She held him close and shut her eyes. "Get some rest, elskede. You're going to be very busy in the morning."

America waited until the boy went back upstairs. "Kate, no. Don't do this to him. He's too young for this."

"Don't you dare," she snapped. "Don't you dare tell me how to handle this. _Do_ this to him? I couldn't keep him away even if I wanted to, Alfred. This is _ours_ , and Nicholas is his brother, and nothing is going to stop him from fighting for that. Do you really think I _want_ this for him? D'ya think I'm _happy_ about it? You saw Penn training with those kids. And I swore, didn't I? Remember? I swore that I would never force old men or children to fight. Well, I'm not forcing anyone to do anything. But I'll be damned if they won't be ready!"

"This is different," America said, quietly. "Those poor German kids had no way of being prepared for what they went through. Not even the Hitler Youth could prepare them. You're not keeping them in the dark about reality! But yes, I watched Julian with those kids out there. They know what they're doing. They shouldn't know anything about it! No child should be learning how to kill an enemy, Katie! They should be learning to hunt and fish and play hooky. They should be pulling antics and smoking behind the barn and going skiing and jumping into the water from the cliffs. They should be kids, not soldiers. But I'd say that they're as ready as they're going to be." He regarded her silently for a few moments. "What about you?" he finally asked. "Do you think you're ready?"

"I'm ready for this to be over," she replied. "It's been seven, almost eight hundred fucking years of this. And I am done. No, Alfred. I didn't just wound Oregon. She went after me, and tried to stab me. After everything I went through to keep her safe when Kievan Rus was here, she fucking turned on me the minute she heard about Columbia. She threatened to cut my babies out and leave me like that. I just lost it then. I'd already been done like that before, you know. And she had me pinned, so for a minute I was afraid she really was going to do it.

"But Tar Baby jumped into her face and wouldn't let go of her, so I was able to get away," Washington said. "She finally got him off her, but Olympus shot her so she couldn't run, and when she turned on him, I grabbed her, and she knew right then what was going to happen to her.

"She begged me not to," Washington remembered, "but I didn't even care anymore. Because of her, Russia was able to take Nicholas out of his own home. She kept screaming at me that I was destroying everything. She actually believed that everything that I've ever done is a plot against all of you. It never was, Alfred. You have to understand that I needed to make myself strong enough to destroy him. I would never do something like that to hurt you. Oregon shouldn't have believed it, but Russia used her feelings for Germany to instigate everything. We never told her that we had Columbia. She never knew about either him or Olympus. Because of her, Russia thinks that he's going to be able to just wade up and sweep on through, the dumb fuck. And it still fuckin amazes me that she even tried to get away with that. But I would never build myself up in secret to hurt you, Alfred. Never."

"What happened, Kate? What did you do? Was it like the other time?" America cleared his throat nervously. "Did you do it the same way?"

She looked away. "No. Oregon was strong, Alfred. I wasn't sure I could do it, so I used a spell to keep her pinned down, but it wasn't easy. I can't really control the magic while I'm pregnant, so I nearly severed her hands and she would have gotten away if Olympus hadn't held her still. I didn't want him to see it," she added, wincing at the memory, "but I took a dirk and stabbed Oregon in the chest and cut her heart out and ate it while it was still beating. Because that's the key to it, you see. Then I cut her head off and she burned. Now my southern border is at California. All her strengths and weaknesses are mine now. I gave Germany jurisdiction over the Guardsmen and we burned her flags with her body. That's why you saw the new flags there. It's not just me; it's Jens and Karsten and Nicholas, and soon these two. This is _ours."_ She bowed her head and sighed. "Russia will be met with nothing but a fight when he gets here. Nicholas is a terror, Alfred," she added, "and I know he's made Russia absolutely miserable. I'm glad. I hope he hasn't gotten a moment's peace."

America was surprised. "I thought he was very well behaved when we were in the city."

"He was," Washington agreed. "He's a good boy, Alfred. And he's smart. He's also Prussia's son, and he doesn't have any love for Russia's psycho bullshit, either. I'll bet you that he's destroyed at least one irreplaceable object of Russia's. If not more. I'll bet he's had to replace doors and windows, too."

"This one," America gestured to her, "is it, uh...Germany's? I mean, you were..."

She gave him an exasperated look. "Just because he put his hand on my back does not mean we're fucking. You remind me of that meme, you know, the one with the lamp and the television? 'Hello, TV-san. Hello, lamp-san.' That one, you know? Totally you. No, Alfred. We have one son together and that's it. We have never been in a relationship. It was only until I got pregnant with Columbia and that was the extent of it. Or is it not okay to be friends with my son's father? Come on."

"I don't. ...I don't get it," America murmured. "He knows the rule about that. Prussia knows that rule, and so does Denmark. You both know that damn rule. Everyone knows it! But you were already fuc...you already had one son when I got you. I guess you thought that the rules didn't apply to you then?"

She glared at him. "Get over yourself, Alfred. I knew what I was doing. About that part, Russia is right. And I chose them on purpose. But I've always been very comfortable with Denmark. And he's a good dad--they all are. Even Prussia. Den's just always been it for me."

America thought of what Idaho had told him and smiled slightly. "You've known him for a long time, haven't you? Since before Russia?"

She stared at him in unaffected surprise. "What are you talking about? I met him in København. With Papa and England."

"No," America shook his head. "Before that, when you were all littles. His father had found you, somehow, and he wanted to settle you. You liked him, and he was nice to you. Don't you remember? He brought Denmark and Sweden to meet you and you all played together. He had to pull you and Denmark apart and carry him away when it was time to go back. I guess the little guy didn't want to leave you."

She looked at him for a moment and then let out an incredulous laugh. "I...wha....Who told you about that? I mean...holy shit, Dad. I haven't thought about that in a long time. Jesus." She sat back and shook her head in amazement. "Who told you that story?"

"Clark," America confessed. He was feeling far too happy about her calling him 'Dad' to care whether or not she was upset by the tale.

"Oh," Washington said, softly. "Yeah, he would remember that. He was there." She was quiet for a beat. "I suppose that's how you knew about Kievan Rus?"

"Katie," America began, "why didn't you just say? A lot of this could have been avoided if you'd told someone."

She made an exasperated sound and turned back to the window. "You are such an eternal optimist, you know that? Who, then? Who could I possibly have told that could have done anything about it? Scotland? _You,_ for Christ's sake? That's a fucking laugh. You've been in love with him since you first met him." She faced him angrily. "Don't try to deny it. And just what would I have said? _'Hey, Alfred, I killed a nation's mother, and to further my vengeance I waited for him to come find me for over three centuries, and then I also killed off his settlement and drowned his sister. I think he might be pissed at me'_?"

America put his head in his hands. "Oh, come on, Kate. Don't be that way, huh?"

"What, you don't like that? How about, _'So after all the shit Russia and I have been pitching back and forth, y'know, since about 1450, I think he might be trying to kidnap one of my sons, could you ask him not to?'_ Oh, yeah, that would have been perfect!" 

"I liked it better when you called me 'Dad', America said.

She snorted. "Except you haven't been, have you?"

"No," he admitted. "I haven't been. You didn't make it very pleasant, Kate. You're not easy to know. I have no idea how they've done it."

"They aren't hung up on what I'm not," Washington pointed out. "You know, it's not like you have to join a special club to be friendly with me, Alfred. You just need to shut up." She looked over at someone entering the house and scowled, but she was really smiling. "Some people just can't, though."

Denmark looked from Washington to America. "Are you guys okay?"

"Yeah," Washington said, turning her attention to the window again. "Where the fuck is he, the bastard?"

Denmark shook his head once. "Elskede, I don't think that you are going to like this, but Alaska just contacted Canada, and he said there are ships off his coast and they're heading our way. They'll be here in two days if this weather holds."

Washington's eyes met America's. "Maybe we should have a prayer for bad weather," she suggested. "Well, this is it, Dad. If you want to leave, you better go now."

That she would even suggest it was an insult to his character. "I'm not going anywhere," he exclaimed. "Hey, I'm the hero, remember?"

"That's right," Denmark agreed, slinging his arm around America's shoulders. "And I am the awesome Kongeriget Danmark, and we have the power of the German Brothers and the earth on our side! Oh, and Washington over there," he added. 

"If I start hearing your national anthems I am going to set myself on fire," Washington said flatly as she left the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> America's meme:  
> https://youtu.be/ulteZYyWAA8


	30. Chapter 30

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The children have a snow day. Denmark makes a decision. Germany makes a terrifying confession.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song: Beware by the Afghan Whigs

The land was silent. Silent, and still. During the night, the snow that had been expected had fallen, and now everything was white, with everything not covered in snow, being coated with icicles that hung nearly to the ground. Perhaps the most poignant thing of all was the snow, Washington thought. This would be the first time that her boys wouldn't be out in it immediately upon waking, pelting anyone within range with lethal snow missiles. Usually, Olympus would construct a snow fort at least five feet high, and the brothers would lurk behind it to ambush the unsuspecting. Their snowball fights would escalate to battles that would last for nearly the entire day.

There would soon be a battle that wasn't fought with snow.

At first light, America had ridden south to Deep River. Sweden had called him to inform him that he and Norway had arrived with Finland, and they would be staying in Deep River until, as Sweden succinctly put it, "the mess is cleaned up." America had decided to go see his papa after it became obvious to him that Germany and Prussia had the situation in hand, and they didn't need him to do anything. Denmark had offered to go along, but America had looked at him and smiled grimly.

"No, Den, I think maybe you should stay here, buddy. You have something more important to deal with," he said. When Denmark raised his eyebrows, he added, "You're going to have to convince your pregnant lady that she shouldn't put herself on the battlefield tomorrow. I am not even going to go anywhere near that one."

Oh, shit. Denmark had not even considered the fact that Washington would go up against Russia no matter what the cost. This was not a discussion that he wanted to have with her, because it wouldn't matter what he said. He knew already that there would be no keeping her from defending her home and family. Washington had never been one to just take it easy and be careful. She had not stopped her advance to Berlin when she found out that she was pregnant with Cascadia and she had flown to bomb Nagasaki shortly after he was born. If Canada had not put his foot down, she would have taken the infant Cascadia up with her.

"Anyway, good luck with that," America said cheerfully as he rode off in a sudden hurry. Denmark wondered where the fire was. Then he sensed someone standing behind him. Lurking.

"Who does he think he is, calling me a lady?" Washington scoffed. "What a liar. Why didn't you go with him?" She looked at him curiously. "I mean, you know you'll never convince me that I shouldn't fight."

"How long were you standing there?" he wondered. It never failed to fascinate him, in an almost morbid way, how she was consistently able to sneak up on nearly anyone and remain undetected. So far, for some reason, the only one who seemed to always know exactly where she was, was Prussia. Denmark supposed it probably had to do with the delayed response to discovering that she had deceived him for so long, because Denmark and Germany also had many citizens who had immigrated here and their link with her was strong, but not that insane.

She moved her heavy cloak aside and put her arm through his as they went back towards the house. "Long enough to know that you have the sense not to bother trying to change my mind about tomorrow." He smirked and glanced up when a shriek of laughter drifted out from the direction of the house. Just beyond it, in the direction of the forest, Olympus and Columbia were duking it out with two boys who were from the nearest town and whose father was in Washington's Regional Guard. She had stopped calling it her State Guard after Oregon had been lost, and since the two factions had often worked together before, the transition was fairly easy for the troops.

"If they weren't laughing so much, you'd think they were actually fighting," Denmark said, thoughtfully. He stood with Washington, watching the boys as they brawled in play. He saw how his son tended to use his size to his advantage, and instead of attacking rashly he always waited for the opportunity to strike from an unexpected direction when his opponent was concentrated on a different tack. Very wise, he thought. Olympus would be formidable in battle. He only wished that it didn't have to be so soon.

Columbia, on the other hand, terrified him. He was an exact copy of his father, but with one critical difference. Whereas Germany would attack with fierce strength and speed, he seldom did so out of sheer bloodlust. Denmark saw Columbia continuously striking his sparring partner, not even allowing him the chance to defend himself, and even though he was not actually harming him he quickly put the human on the ground, and went in for what Denmark feared, for a wild moment, would be an actual coup de grace. 

The look in his eyes.

A wolf watching a mortally wounded ewe and her defenseless lamb.

Jesus Christ. 

He started towards them, about to call out, but Olympus was already guiding Columbia away, and then helped the boy to his feet. As they all brushed the snow from their clothes they laughed and chattered about who would win if it were about Jolly Ranchers, to which Olympus replied that he would only fight for the watermelon ones and the other flavors could fuck right off.

Yelling with laughter, the children ran into the house, and Washington pulled on Denmark's arm. 

"They're going to get snow all over the floor," she said. "I need to make sure they take their boots off so they don't eat shit as soon as they tear into the kitchen."

"Go ahead," Denmark said, seeing the black-clad figure of Germany riding into the stable yard. "I'll be a minute." He waited while she disappeared into the house before heading in the direction of the horses. Germany was just leaving the stables when he got there. "Herr Tyskland, I need to talk with you about something."

"Oh?" Germany did not even look surprised to see him. He put his hands behind his back and waited, one eyebrow raised. 

"It's about Kate, and what I would ask of you if something were to happen to me tomorrow," Denmark continued. 

"Nothing is going to happen to you," Germany said, dismissively. 

Denmark's hands became fists, and he had to fight the urge to punch Germany right in the face. It wasn't something that happened often, but he was far more observant than he led others to believe, so he knew his instincts were correct on this. "But if something were," he went on, firmly, "I want to ask you to take care of my children. To be there for Kate."

Germany stared at him. His eyes seemed to bore right into Denmark's very soul, and it made him intensely uncomfortable for a moment. "Why are you asking me, and not Canada, or my Bruder?"

"Because you love her," Denmark said, wanting to beat the living fuck out of Germany. He forced himself to stay calm. After all, Germany hadn't done anything. "Prussia and Canada care about her, and Canada would probably say yes if I asked him, but he has his own Provinces to take care of. So I'm asking you, because I know you're a good father and you would be good to Kate."

Germany regarded him in silence for a few moments. Then, he turned and leaned against the fence, straightening the fingers of his black gloves. He studied his hands briefly, and Denmark saw a slight smirk emerge on his face. When he looked up, Denmark had to struggle against an urge to take a step back. 

"Yes, Dänemark, you are correct. I do love her," Germany said, "and since you did ask me, if something were to happen to you, in the unlikely event, I will see to it that she and the children are safe. Have you discussed this with her?"

"Not yet."

Germany gave him a severe look. "I suggest you talk with her, because we both know exactly how she will react if it comes down to it and I show up talking all this insanity about taking care of her for you. I know how hard she can hit, and I don't want to get punched in the face for keeping my word." He paused, seeming to relish Denmark's unease. The smirk on his face turned into a predatory grin.

"I knew this would happen eventually. And I swore that I would be there when it did. Russia had no idea that he picked the wrong one to fuck with. But I think maybe he is beginning to have an idea. We will find out tomorrow, when he tries to get past my defenses at Seaside."

"I was under the impression that the mole was caught and the information intercepted," Denmark frowned. 

Germany cut his eyes towards the house. Washington was still inside. "He was, and yes. But as far as Russia is concerned, his man completed the mission. I sent an imposter back with false information that will guide most of Russia's landing force into a trap. He will concentrate the bulk of his men at Seaside, because he thinks he's going to keep right on into the interior. But what they will get is a slaughter." He punched his fist into his palm. "I cannot wait to see the look on his face when he realizes he is completely fucked. I've been waiting for this day for too long."

"I know Washington's reasons for hating Russia," Denmark began, "but what are yours?"

The minute it was out of his mouth, he regretted asking. Germany's teeth clenched and he suddenly looked even more menacing. "Perhaps you do not truly understand my nature," he mused. "It's understandable. After all, it is easy to make assumptions based on very little truth. Everyone blames mein Bruder for what happened, with Hitler and the Reich. Of course they would, for he is a master of war. But it was not he that controlled Hitler. People like to make excuses for my...savage behavior during that time. It is widely accepted that I was merely an extension of the will of Herr Hitler, but that could not be further from the truth. It was not he who ordered the construction of the camps. He did not chip away at the worthless lives of the Jew filth that polluted our lands. He did not send the squads into those lands to take care of the problem Untermenschen. No," Germany shook his head wistfully. "That was _my_ doing."

Stunned, Denmark struggled to find a response and could not.

"Russia was a most unwelcome distraction from the true enemies of the Fatherland, Dänemark. Because Herr Hitler became so consumed with the obsession to defeat him, he lost sight of the true goal to eliminate the impure blood." His grin now looked absolutely murderous. "People have always accused mein Bruder of indoctrinating me with hate, but they don't stop to realize that I was _born_ of hatred. I _am_ that hatred. And because Russia's mere existence caused everything to fall apart and my dream of a pure Germanic Europe to suffer, he must be destroyed. And who better to accomplish that," he added, "than the one his mother could never break?" He didn't wait for an answer. "Once he is gone I will waste his cities." Suddenly he straightened and made his face carefully neutral again. "It will be a great day indeed."

"What are you still doing out here?" Washington demanded, coming into the stables. Her cloak was covered in a dusting of snow. "You guys better go inside. If you haven't noticed, it's snowing pretty heavily."

"We were just finishing up," Denmark managed to say easily. She gave him a speculative look.

"Whatever, now come inside. Your brothers are here," she added as Denmark put his arm around her. She did not notice the narrow look Germany gave Denmark. "They're up to summat."

They're not the only ones, Denmark wanted to say, but instead he just shrugged. "Well, when we were littles and Father would ask Norge what he was up to, his response was always, 'no good'," he told her.

"Ha," Germany scoffed. Washington looked at him in surprise. "That sounds like something mein Bruder would say, not yours."

Denmark laughed. "Oh, but you don't know Norge," he pointed out. "We raised all kinds of hell."

"Still do," Washington murmured. "Inside with both of you. Your boys made your lunch. I don't want to hear any complaints about the lack of wurst, Ludwig, " she added.

"No," Germany said, putting a hand on Columbia's head. "Mein Sohn is an excellent cook, even if it is not wurst."

Denmark looked at Olympus in surprise when he saw his lunch. "What, Columbia makes Germany flæskesteg, but you make me a salad?" He looked confused, but Norway spoke up from his spot at table where he, too, was eating a salad.

"Germany doesn't get to go into the woods after lunch, and you do." At this, Sweden gave him a warning look. "I don't want you to have have too much in your stomach. Hurry up, because I want to get back here before it gets too late."

Washington looked at a message from Canada on her phone. "Well, it looks like Russia is at a dead stop just above Juneau. The bad-weather prayer must have worked, because that gives us at least another day."

"Good," Norway replied. "Den will need that extra time to come back from his trip."

Olympus looked over at his father. "Where are you going?"

"Just into the woods," Norway assured him before Denmark could answer.


	31. Chapter 31

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Denmark trips balls.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song: Compassion   
> Artist: Lustmord

The afternoon light was already beginning to fade by the time Norway and Denmark finally entered the trees. Norway walked slightly ahead of Denmark, as if he had a particular destination in mind. Suddenly he stopped, as if remembering something.

"Oh," he said, reaching into a small plastic bag. "Here." He held out a small piece of dried reddish fungus. "It won't do you any good if you aren't ready when we get there."

"I fucking knew it," Denmark smirked. He shuddered at the bitter taste of the mushroom cap, but didn't gag, and he only needed a tiny sip of snow to wash it down. Norway also took a piece, but his was much smaller than Denmark's. 

They continued in silence until Denmark felt his surroundings ripple and shudder around him. He was able to look around and still recognize the forest, but now the trees were beginning to hum and glow. As the world began to bend, he finally had to stop. Sweat was beginning to bead on his forehead, and his legs grew heavy and numb, yet his feet were tingling. "I need to lie down."

As he lay down he shut his eyes, though he could still see everything as if he were standing with his eyes wide open. There was no natural light in the forest now, but it was as bright as midday. Every single tree, stone and shadow had a brilliant, pulsing halo. He was filled with a sensation of being nowhere and everywhere. And he was no longer alone with Norge in the woods.

They were standing around him, staring at him in silence. He could see the disapproval on Sve's face; the fear on Fin's, the contempt on Norge's. As his prone body convulsed on the forest floor, he turned in a circle, finally spotting Washington standing about ten yards away, staring at him in silence. He tried to take a step closer to her, but found that he couldn't even move. She still did not speak, and she watched him with her shining grey eyes.

Then, to his horror, a dark, menacing figure appeared behind her, fading out of the ancient trees. As it got closer and closer he began to panic, but he still could not move. Finally, the dark figure was close enough to her to reach out and put its arms around her, gently at first. Then the figure lifted its head and looked straight at Denmark. 

It was his father. As his arms slid around her, Scandia smiled at his son, but there was nothing but malice in the smile. Denmark tried to scream, to tell him to let her go, but he could only watch as Scandia tightened his grip. Washington's eyes filled with tears that did not fall until she closed them, and the tears that spilled down her cheeks were those of blood. 

Behind her, Scandia looked at Denmark and lifted a hand to brush Washington's cheek, smearing her face with the blood that streamed from beneath her closed eyelids.

 _You can't save her,_ a low, cold voice that sounded nothing like his father reverberated through his entire body. As Denmark seized again, Scandia suddenly burst into a thousand raven feathers, and instead of his father, the one standing behind her was Germany, and he was whispering into her ear. As he did, he lifted his cold blue eyes to Denmark's and smiled, revealing horrible, sharp canines. His eyes never leaving Denmark's, he turned her to face him, taking her face in his hands and using his thumb to smear even more blood across her face.

 _You can't save her,_ the voice said again, and as his body arched on the ground, he stood frozen in a circle of flames as Germany brought his mouth down onto hers. He tried to scream out, but before he could even open his mouth, both Germany and Washington dissolved in a haze of lights and sounds. He opened his eyes, seeing the trees above him growing smaller as he sank into the earth. Just as it swallowed him up, he managed to thrust a hand through the closing dirt, and a furry paw, one with decidedly sharp claws, curled around his hand, pulling up until he was free of the earthen prison, covered in mud but very much there. He stared across a valley of dead trees, hearing explosions coming ever closer. Turning desperately, he saw a pair of eyes coming towards him, and he recoiled when the head of a snake darted out at him. He reached out and grabbed the snake by its opening mouth, forcing it wider and wider until he tore it clear in half. The two halves enveloped him and he struggled to free himself, only to come face to face with Scandia.

"Grief, my son," he said, his pale grey eyes staring into Denmark, and beyond him. "Grief is the price we pay for love."

At last, he turned on the ground and vomited loudly and violently. As he slowly sat up, a small dark shape brushed against his arm, vibrating softly. 

"Man," a strange, pitching voice said, "will he be okay?" The shape continued to rub against him, gaining form. A tail, whiskers, ears. Tar Baby pressed against him anxiously, and Denmark finally reached out to put his hands in the soft black hair. "I've seen a lot of tripping, but not like that," the cat continued. As Tar Baby repeatedly bumped his head against him, Denmark felt his surroundings shiver together once more. Before he could speak, however, he vomited again.

"Take it easy, bror," Sve was saying, and he felt himself lifted off the ground. Was Sve actually carrying him? Denmark gazed around and saw that it was so. Tar Baby hurried in front of them, on the lookout for anything suspicious. "When ya didn't come back, Washin't'n sent us out to find ya. 'E knew j'st where t' look." He looked down into Denmark's flushed face. "Norge is already at the house. I brought 'im back f'rst, since 'e wasn't this far out there."

Washington. She was safe in her house, and had not been in the woods with them. There had been no Scandia and no Germany menacing her. His hair was full of small twigs and leaves, not muddy earth. It had all been a stupid, insecurity-driven and decidedly bad mushroom trip.

Nothing more.


	32. Chapter 32

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Washington and her allies prepare for war the old way.  
> Hair-braiding happens.  
> Norway shows off his pipes.  
> Some of the Guardsmen revert to their ancestral origins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song: Krigsgaldr by Heilung

By the next night, Denmark had fully recovered from his awful mushroom trip, and had made Norge promise that he wouldn't bring it up even if someone specifically asked about it. Norge said he wouldn't say a word, but he didn't see the big deal about it. Even Washington had no idea what he had seen in the woods, but even if she was dying to know, she would never ask.

It had finally come down to the last twelve hours before Russia was scheduled to make the beach at both Seaside and Pacific Beach. The men just needed to do one last thing before they departed for their duties. Before he left the house, Denmark went upstairs to check on the children, although Germany had already done so and had told him Olympus was asleep. When he glanced in to see if Columbia was also asleep, Denmark was surprised to see that he was not. 

"What are you doing still awake, Karsten?" he whispered when he noticed the boy lying in bed staring through the cracked door at him. 

"Russia is coming tomorrow," Columbia replied. "He's out there in the ocean right now. He's got my brother. I'm going to help get him back. Maybe I'll even kill Russia," he added, his eyes gleaming. "Where are you going? To where you will be fighting?" 

Sweden came to see what was keeping Denmark. The boy gasped in delght when he saw Sweden's ceremonial regalia. "You're a bear!"

"Ja, he is," Denmark grinned. "Doesn't he look terrifying?"

Columbia shook his head vehemently. "Nein, he looks awesome. Is Norwegen in a bear costume too?"

"Nej," Swe replied, pleased that the boy was unafraid. Sealand still had difficulty looking at him when he wore the bearskin and bones. "You need t' get s'm sleep, little one," he said. "Den, the others are waiting."

"No! Please, let me go out there too! Is Jens going? I want to see," Columbia sat up and reached for Denmark's hands. "Don't leave me here by myself. I know that you won't be coming back until it's done. Onkel Gilbert said. Don't make me stay behind! Please let me see!"

"Your brother is right across the hall, and is asleep, as you should be," Denmark told him, squeezing the boy's hands. "We are going out to prepare for war, nevø. This is not for children. Don't worry, you'll be able to hear everything. If you promise to go right to sleep afterwards, you can stay awake and listen."

Columbia nodded somberly. "Is mein Vati out there?"

"Yes, he is, and your mama. I promise everyone is perfectly safe right now," Denmark assured him. "Sve, did you say everyone is ready? Better get goin," he muttered. He smiled at Columbia and kissed the boy's warm forehead. "Listen for the Gjallarhorn."

"Okay," Columbia said. "Gute Nacht, onkler."

"How many did you bring?" Denmark asked, and Sweden held up one hand.

"Nor and myself. Some of the Guardsmen from different states will be joining us. Alfr'd is down there too," he added.

Denmark wondered briefly what Sve meant by 'some'. Once, during one of their many skirmishes, he'd mentioned that he had brought 'a few' men to help, and it had turned out to be several thousand. That time, Sve had soundly kicked his ass without breaking a sweat.

As they walked out to the bonfire area, he could see at least twenty spears pointed at the sky. "Did ya make them yourself?" he wondered. "When did you decide to do all this?"

"It was Norge's idea first," Sweden said. Denmark saw that in addition to the spears, there were two large drums and a shield. Each was in a Guardsman's possession, not just from Washington's own but also the other states that had come to help her. The men had regulation haircuts and were clean-shaven, but most of them were covered in tattoos that proclaimed their Viking heritage. The two with the large drums were Danish- Americans from Seattle, and they not only looked the part, but could also speak Danish. Even after nearly a century of American life, they still spoke their family's native tongue without a foreign accent. 

Denmark finally found Washington standing with America. "Elskede, I will braid up your hair," he told her, moving to stand behind her. "Is everything else ready, Norge?"

"Ja," Norway replied as Denmark began to comb through Washington's hair. As Sweden and Norway stood flanking her, Washington closed her eyes, concentrating on the presence of her friends and her family. Scandia was here. Maybe he had never meant to leave her, but they had been forced apart, stolen from each other, and she could see him in the eyes of Denmark and his brothers. Of America, the son of Sweden. She heard first one long, continuous blast from the Gjallarhorn, and it was then joined by another. The air around them hummed with the long notes, winding around them like velvet smoke. Keeping her eyes closed, Washington felt Denmark's hands dividing her hair into sections, and as the ground began to rumble with the striking of spear-butts, he began to braid with steady, firm plaits. Soon the rumble of spears was joined by the steady beat of a mallet upon a shield, and shortly thereafter, the heavy thuds of the drums shook the night. Before them, the sea lay dark, its roar muted by the ancient rhythm of the spears and drums. As Denmark continued to braid her hair, she began to hear the ring of metal, as sword striking sword, in time with the rest. The rhythm became a powerful beast waiting in the night for the enemy at the dawn. Then, Norway began to sing:

_"Hín varp násjó_

_Villr máðe þeim_

_Keipa i bormóða húni._

_Hverr of? Hver of kom her á hitt land?"_

Washington opened her eyes briefly to see a bonfire blossom to life in front of them. In its light she saw Tar Baby, sitting on the top of a broken totem pole. Across from her, America, Germany and Prussia stood with their backs to the water. America's shoulder was no longer wrapped, he was standing easily, and his face was grim. Norway continued his song:

_"Gotna fiskr ór_

_Firney-ím, svimande_

_Foki af fán-vanga lande._

_Hverr of? Hverr of kom her á hitt land?"_

Sweden and Denmark then joined him, repeating the mournful words. As they finished, Denmark wrapped the completed braids around Washington's head, securing them through with a dagger. 

The drums and spears hesitated, waiting. The only sound now came from the steady beats upon the shield, but a voice spoke in Washington's head, causing her to open her eyes wide. Scandia's voice, unheard by her for so long but never actually forgotten. The words, though she had not known them before now, were at once familiar and strange, but they were true: 

"What am I supposed to do  
If I want to talk about peace and understanding," she asked, 

"But you only understand the language of the sword?" Sweden continued.

"What if I want to make you understand that the path you chose leads to downfall," she went on.

"But you only understand the language of the sword?" Norway finished.

Washington kept her eyes on the dark, silent ocean, knowing Russia's ships were hiding in the darkness and he could hear everything. She needed him to hear. 

"What if I want to tell you to leave me and my beloved ones in peace," she asked,

"But you only understand the language of the sword?" Norway and Sweden murmured. Now Washington and Denmark alternated lines.

"I let the blade do the talking..." she whispered.

"So my tongue shall become iron," Denmark hissed.

"And my words the mighty roar of war!"

"Revealing where my divine anger's arrow shall strike."

"All action for the good of all..."

"I see my reflection in your eyes."

"But my new age has just begun..." Washington swore.

"The sword is soft," Norway took up the line.

"In the fire of the furnace," Washington said.

"It hungers to be hit!"

"And wants to have a hundred sisters."

"In the coldest state of their existence," Norway growled.

"They may dance the maddest," Washington continued. 

"In the morass of the red rain," the three brothers chorused,

"Beloved brother enemy," Washington closed her eyes.

"I sing my sword song for you," Sweden continued. 

"The lullaby of obliteration..." Washington chanted.

"So I can wake up with a smile..." Sweden cried,

"...And bliss in my heart," Norway whispered. 

"And bliss in my heart," America heard himself murmuring.

"And bliss in my heart," Washington finished. There was a beat of silence before Madsen and Koefoed, the two Danish-American Guardsmen from Seattle, slammed their mallets upon the drums again, and now the four chanted together:

"Coexistence, Conflict, combat  
Devastation, regeneration, transformation,"

"That is the best I can do for you," Sweden rumbled.

"I see a grey gloom on the horizon," Norway said,

"That promises a powerful sun to rise," Washington growled.

"To melt away all moons," Denmark went on,

"It will make the old fires of purification..." Sweden began,

"Look like dying embers," Norway shouted.

"Look like dying embers," Sweden roared.

"Look like dying embers!" Denmark howled.

"Look like dying embers!" Washington screamed, and Tar Baby screamed back, his voice shaking the earth. Then Sweden and Norway sang again,

_"Hín varp násjó_

_Villr máðe þeim_

_Keipa i bormóða húni._

_Hverr of? Hver of kom her á hitt land?_

_Gotna fiskr ór_

_Firney-ím, svimande_

_Foki af fán-vanga lande._

_Hverr of? Hverr of kom her á hitt land?"_

Denmark raised his fist to his chest and hissed, 

"Ylir mand, æro their, ela mela os!"

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> https://youtu.be/QRg_8NNPTD8  
> This is the song that Sweden, Denmark and Norway sing with Washington the night before the battle. I've put the original lyrics into Old Norse for Norway's rendition. 
> 
> Krigsgaldr (War Magic) ©Heilung
> 
> The household wanes,  
> Vil threw a death wave over those  
> the oar locks wore out for, with the tired mast-top
> 
> Who brought...  
> Who brought the horde over to the far country?
> 
> The godly-fish from Firnøy’s streams  
> Swimming in the drift  
> of the land of shining meadows.


	33. Chapter 33

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Lithuania gives Cascadia a parting gift. Russia argues with a child. Cascadia makes a decision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song: Shoots and Ladders by Korn

Cascadia couldn't sleep.

Hours earlier, the sounds of savage drums and the ringing cry of the voices of his family, of Russia's enemies, had shaken the very ship they were on, and Russia had warned him to stay below but of course he had not listened. Mr. Lithuania had come and taken him to a secret room, where he could look out a little window and see ashore to where a bonfire still burned. They were not singing anymore, but they were still out there. He could only see a few shapes that he recognized; there was Tar Baby, perched on the old totem pole that Mama had said broke during a storm a thousand years ago; there was his Vati, standing with Onkel Ludwig and America. Cascadia recognized America by the cowlick that always managed to stand straight up. He saw Sweden and Norway, both in full terrifying regalia of old: Sweden wore a headdress with a crown of silver sun-wheels, and he wore the skin of a bear, with its jawbone fitted against his own, giving him a feral appearance. Norway looked no less threatening, with a long fur robe and a headdress of reindeer skin, topped off by a full set of antlers. When the light of the bonfire illuminated his face, Cascadia could see that it was painted white, with dark strokes sweeping down his face from eyes that were hidden beneath a fringe of raven feathers. The very air seemed to dip and swell with the rhythmic thudding of many heavy things into the earth, but Cascadia could only see the very tips of the spears.

"What are they doing?" he wondered. Lithuania was unwrapping something at the little table. 

"They are," Lithuania began, "getting ready for battle. It begins in the morning. Come here, Nikolai," he added, and Cascadia turned around to see what he wanted. Lithuania stood at the table, holding something behind his back.

"What is it?" Cascadia asked, coming closer. Lithuania reached out and put his hand on the boy's shoulder.

"Your mother doesn't deserve this," he said, firmly. "Russia is my father and I am his son, but I am not like him. I know that what he has done is wrong. This is for you," he added, bringing his other hand out from behind his back. Cascadia looked at him in astonishment. 

"But this is yours," he protested, even as he took the dagger from Lithuania's outstretched hand.

"No," Lithuania shook his head. "It was Scandia's. Long ago, Russia's mother stole it from him when she took your mother away. He had given it to her as a promise that he would protect her, but everything went wrong. I did not tell Russia that I have it, so it will be our secret."

"Oh. Okay," Cascadia said. He studied the dagger carefully. "Mr. Toris, who is Scandia?"

Lithuania hummed softly. "He is one of the Ancients, like Germania and Romulus. Germania is your grandfather, and Germany and Prussia are his sons. Scandia is the father of the Scandinavian nations. Denmark, Sweden and Norway."

Confused, Cascadia looked out the window again. "What do you mean by that, Mr. Toris? He knew my mama? She wasn't stolen."

"Yes, she was," Lithuania said, looking sad. "I don't know the whole story, but it isn't the kind of story I can tell in one night. Maybe someday after this has ended, your mother will tell you."

The boy sighed. "What kind of story is it? Would it really take so long?"

Grabbing a small coat from the cabinet, Lithuania put it around Cascadia's shoulders. "It's a love story," he said. "And it's a tragic story. But I think maybe it will end all right after all."

Shrugging into the coat, Cascadia thought for a moment and then slipped the dagger into the gap between the buttons. The end of the handle looked almost exactly like a button. "Did Scandia love my mama? Did he want to be her papa? Like Scotland?"

"Something like that," Lithuania agreed. "But it was more than just that. So the story goes. I heard it from Estonia, who heard it from Finland, who heard it from Sweden, who was there."

They hurried out into the dark corridor. The ship was still at a full stop, because Russia knew going ashore in the night was dangerous. Washington's wildlife was no joke; even the deer were freakishly large. The further north you were, the worse it got, especially on the western side of the mountains, and along the coast, you could forget trying to kill an elk with a .22; you nearly needed an assault rifle. These animals were not afraid of humans and would attack without hesitation the moment they felt threatened. 

"Go back to your room," Lithuania whispered. "Remember, keep it secret."

"I promise," Cascadia said, and darted forward, hugging Lithuania tightly. It took the Baltic nation quite by surprise. He patted the little one's back, finally allowing himself a real smile for the first time in over a hundred years. The boy certainly was a menace, as far as Russia was concerned, and Lithuania found this fitting. But he was also pure of heart and brave. Russia would never be able to take that from him, though he would try; _He might very well go utterly mad in the process,_ Lithuania thought. 

Loud, unmistakable footsteps echoed through the corridor. 

"Uh oh," Cascadia said, loud enough for Russia to hear, "here comes Lushky McDrunkov. I mean," he added, in a voice much too snide for a child, "Captain Car Wreck."

"I am not," Russia said frostily, and glared at Lithuania, who quickly turned his face to hide the smile twitching his lips. Five months later and the horrid child monster _still_ would not let him forget that he had rear-ended a car on their first day in St. Petersburg. "It was an accident, and it was because _you_ were talking in my ear!"

"Yeah, whatever, Crashy," the boy snarked, turning away. "Five car pileup," he added just loud enough for Russia to catch it.

"Why you little--!" He lunged at Cascadia, but the boy shut his cabin door right in his face, and locked it, even though Russia had disabled the locking mechanism. _How the hell,_ he thought. He rattled the knob. "You little menace, open the door!"

"No."

Russia pounded on the door. "Open up or I'll break it down!"

 _"Go on then,"_ Cascadia shouted back, his voice causing their ears to pop. "I _dare_ you!" He suddenly flung the door open, and it slammed into the wall, cracking the paneling. "I know the truth about you," he hissed, glaring at Russia with all the hatred in his soul. "You're just like your thieving mother."

 _"What_ did you just say?" Russia demanded, taking an unwise step towards the boy.

Narrowing his eyes, Cascadia said, "You. Are. A. _Thief."_

Russia's hands clenched into fists. "My mother was no thief, you horrible monster."

"She was," Cascadia said. "A coward, too."

Lithuania cringed and shut his eyes, not wanting to watch Russia beat the boy for his insolence. But the beating never came. Cascadia went right on talking. "And I want to go ashore with you and Mr. Toris. If you think you're just going to leave me here while you go traipsing around on the beach then you really _are_ an idiot!"

 _What on earth is wrong with this child?_ Lithuania wondered. What had gotten into him? Usually he was much more good-natured, even when he was being rebellious. And then he thought, _Traipsing?_

Russia glared at him. "Why should I force you to be present when I destroy your mother and your brothers?" 

"If you make me stay here I'll sink this ship," Cascadia said, flatly. Russia let out a roar of laughter.

 _"You,_ a little child, not even a state! Sink one of _my_ great ships--"

Without changing expression, Cascadia punched his fist into the wall next to him, his eyes never leaving Russia's. His arm went into the wall up to his elbow. 

"I'm going ashore."

The laughter died on Russia's lips. He swept his eyes over the ruined doorway, with the door embedded in the opposite wall, hanging only on one hinge; the damaged walls, with the boy calmly poised to strike again, and he knew there would be no rest for him either way. The boy had damn near demolished his house, and Russia was not about to let him sink this ship, especially when they were this far offshore. He remembered quite clearly that there were sharks in this part of the ocean. He thought briefly of telling the boy that he would be eaten by the sharks if he continued throwing a tantrum, but changed his mind after realizing that Cascadia was more than likely perfectly aware that there were sharks. And of _course_ he wouldn't be scared. Oh, _no_. So far the only thing he seemed to be afraid of was bedtime. 

"Fine," he hissed. "You want to go ashore? We'll go together. And you can watch me kill your bastard brothers in front of your whore mother. Would you like that?" He glared down at the boy, feeling smug, but faltered when he saw the complete lack of reaction on his face. His blue eyes were as cold and empty as the Siberian plain.

"Don't call my mama that again," the boy warned. 

Russia scoffed. "Or what, you'll punch holes in the floor? I can have the ship repaired just as fast as you try to destroy it," he pointed out. 

"Don't call her a whore. She isn't like that," Cascadia said. "And if you say it again, it will hurt." Then he backed into his cabin, pulled the door out of the wall and forced it into the shattered jamb.

Then he turned the lock.


	34. Chapter 34

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Russia's men come ashore, Denmark remembers his first meeting with Washington and other fateful points in their relationship.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song: Mitt Land by Fraunhofer Diffraction

He had never been able to tell her no.

It was more than likely due to the fact that from the first time he saw her, he was hopelessly gone; his father, so proud of the tiny girl he had found in a far-away land. Like them, he'd said. And he would bring her to his firstborn for a bride when she was older, he promised, but first he wanted them to get to know each other, so he took Denmark and Sweden to sea with him the next time and the storm blew them right to her. She was waiting for them as if somehow she had known that they were coming. 

Denmark and Sweden had been more than a little skeptical, because not only were they only little but they were also very much the sons of their father, who had always stressed upon his sons the importance of loving the person that you took to wife. Arranged relationships were seldom successful, so the very idea that his father would even consider that for him upset Denmark. There really were not many suitable choices for a young nation; being wed to a mortal human was out of the question, and Scandia had gone searching for just the ideal land to raise into a successful colony for his son. Had found her. But Denmark was resistant to the very notion of being married to a strange little girl. He didn't like the idea of spending forever chained to someone that he didn't love.

But then he saw _her._

He saw her standing on a little bluff, staring out at them as they dropped anchor. The skies, which had been as grey as her little cloak, suddenly burst into a riot of sunshine. It struck her directly and he was nearly blinded by her. He saw the way she streaked towards their ship, leaping up right into Scandia's arms. To their surprise, their father not only caught her but began to coo at her in their own tongue, as if she could understand him.

And she did.

Scandia had named her Katla, and now, he turned to his two oldest sons and made the proper introductions. Sweden, being the younger, was introduced first, and he hid his face behind his brother's shoulder, suddenly very shy. Scandia laughed, and so did the little girl. Denmark thought her laughter sounded like the ringing of metal. Her grey eyes met his, and she immediately scrambled to the ground and approached him. 

They stared at each other. 

"Hvað heitir þú?" she asked, not taking her eyes from his. He had never seen such expression in anyone's eyes before. They were a bit lighter in color than his father's, and he thought she was beautiful, even if she was entirely without color in her hair. When she was this close to him, he could smell her unique scent of trees and rain.

"Danmark," he replied, and she smiled. His heart did a funny jump in his chest and for a moment he couldn't breathe because it felt so strange. To his complete and utter joy she punched him in the gut and then took off at a sprint. He and Sweden looked at each other, grinning wildly, and proceeded to tear after her. They both caught her once, and then she chased them, but she couldn't catch Sweden, and when she went after Denmark, he stayed just out of her reach until she was trembling with frustration. When Sweden laughed and Denmark taunted her, she did something neither of them expected. She glared at Denmark with narrowed eyes for a moment, seeming to weigh her options. And when she made her choice, it took him completely by surprise. Instead of pitching a fit and screaming for Scandia, she planted her feet firmly on the beach and swept her arms towards the sea, and then back at him. Before he knew what was happening, a wave came ashore and knocked him down, whereby she was then able to perch on his back in triumph. 

He loved her.

He wanted to stay with her forever from that day on, but after a month, it was time to return home. He clung to her in protest, both of them unwilling to separate, and finally Scandia had to pry them apart. Denmark cried so hard that he began to turn purple. He had not wailed like that since the first (and only) time he had lost a sparring match. He stared at her over his father's shoulder, watching her dwindle as they neared the ship. Sweden tried to comfort him, but there was no comforting the bereft young Kingdom of Denmark. His father managed to get a jerky sniffle out of him by promising that he would bring her back with him the next time he sailed. And finally after a month of moping around Scandinavia, he calmed down. When his father once again left for Stillehavet, he wanted desperately to go along, but his father was taking Kievan Rus and her children along, so he couldn't bring his own children. "Someone must stay behind and take care of Sverige and Norge," Scandia said. "You will see her when we get back, my son."

But everything had gone terribly wrong, and he nursed his broken heart and his injured father at the same time, hating his life and realizing, in his twisted grief, that none of it would have happened if he had not been forced to stay behind. His relationship with his brothers deteriorated to the point where he flat out terrorized them, keeping them in his iron grip for hundreds of years. When Sweden finally revolted against him it was nearly too much for him to bear. Instead of telling him how he really felt, they fought again, and Denmark hit his brother so hard that Sweden was unable to speak properly for a very long time. 

The brothers were estranged for another hundred years; Sweden and Finland settled down together and were quite happy, much to his irritation. The only one who hadn't left altogether was Norge, though their relationship also suffered. Denmark had taken the title as the Kingdom of Denmark and Scandinavia, and the world was very much aware of him. He had grown into a man and was powerful. 

And yet.

Something was always missing. 

One rainy afternoon in the spring, a messenger came. There was a delegation coming from British America, the man said. England and Scotland had embarked on the Lady Washington and were sailing to København with their wards, Oregon and Washington. They had requested an audience with him specifically. 

Denmark was flattered, but wondered what the motive behind the visit might be. His relationship with England was fairly good, though his command of the English language was limited to vulgar jokes and foul language in general; his relationship with Scotland was not so good. They were not at war now, but the last time he had tried, Scotland had soundly rebuffed him. 

What could they possibly want with him?

On the day that the Lady Washington arrived at port, he made sure to call his brothers so that they could be witnesses to what could very well be an historic event. By this time he knew that Oregon and Washington were young ladies, just reaching adulthood. He had heard of England's Oregon, but not this Washington, so even before their ship arrived, he was quite intrigued. 

When she came into port the Lady Washington was moving with alarming speed, but just as he began to be concerned for the safety of the dock workers, she suddenly slowed and glided to a perfect, gentle stop. England and his ward were the first to disembark, the blonde, blue-eyed Oregon moving with the perfectly measured grace of a lady. He noticed that England already looked a bit tense, and he had just enough time to wonder about it before Scotland strode down the gangplank alone, but shouting over his shoulder. 

"C'mon, lass! Cannae keep us all waitin noo!"

"Fuck all, a damn minute then!" Came the responding shout, and England put his hand over his face. Oregon looked intensely uncomfortable. Suddenly England looked up and swore.

"Oh, bloody hell!" 

A very red head popped out of one of the windows above deck, followed by the rest of her; Denmark could only assume that this was Washington. As easily as could be she rode the ropes all the way down, then grabbed her skirts up and ran down the dock at breakneck speed. She had to leap over their accompanying trunks at the end, and came to a stop next to Scotland. 

By this time England was nearly apoplectic. Her hair, which had been sloppy to begin with, was now a tangled mess, and she had eschewed a cloak, so her neck and shoulders were exposed. She had also not worn the gown England had chosen for her, opting instead to wear a combination of skirt, blouse and bodice. To make matters even worse for England, there was even a small black cat perched upon her shoulder. Entirely inappropriate for a diplomatic engagement. Denmark could see the humiliation in his eyes.

Scotland, however, did not bat an eyelash as he introduced England and Oregon. When he got to his ward, however, she interrupted him neat as you please. Poor Oregon looked as though she wanted to throw herself into the sea, and England turned an impressive shade of red.

"My name is Kate," she said, speaking directly to him as she stepped forward and thrust her hand out. He stared at her in amazement, unable to look away. Her eyes were absolutely stunning, and he felt very much like he had seen her somewhere before, but it was impossible. He would have remembered meeting someone with hair as red as hers, not to mention the distinct scar that nearly circled her neck. He winced to himself, wondering what had happened to her, but she kept talking and distracted him.

"My lands are open to you, for you to do as you will," she said, and everyone gasped, including Sweden and Norway. Yet, despite the grievous breach of etiquette, he could not bring himself to correct her manners. For not only did she possess the unmistakable aura of someone who just didn't give a fuck, but she also seemed very aware of what she was doing. 

He was enamored of her immediately. 

As they walked together towards his house, he could hear England behind them with Scotland. He was speaking in a loud whisper. "I told you this would happen. I bloody well told you! I knew she'd pull something. I warned you. She is not bloody ready to--"

Kate interrupted him without even looking back at them. "I can hear you."

Right then Denmark realized that he had a raging hard-on.

He had gone to speak to Sve before taking her into his rooms, and when his brother told him tactfully that the girl he was about to deflower was not just Washington but their Katla, he had been stunned. Sve had recognized her immediately by looking into her eyes. And by the time they had ended up tangled in the sheets he knew for certain that it was her, because he had tasted the rain on her tongue and smelled the deep green of trees in her very skin, and when she laughed it was like the ring of steel. 

He said nothing to her about it, just in case the trauma of what had happened with his father was still painful for her. He wondered briefly if the scar on her neck had anything to do with it? It was a vicious looking scar and it was obviously the result of a violent injury. Who could have hurt such a lovely little thing? But when he touched it, even as gently as he did, she went absolutely stiff against him. Nothing he did or said got through to her, but the next morning she seemed to have forgiven him. Later he gave her his own kerchief to put around her neck, and she kept it on from that day forward. 

Since he had heard that she had piloted the Lady Washington herself, he thought he would invite her out to try one of his own vessels. To his satisfaction, she handed it beautifully. He made up his mind that he would talk with Scotland about assuming responsibility for her. It would only be right, he told himself. After all, it was exactly as his father had intended. He left her at the helm and went below where Scotland was talking with England about him and Kate. Denmark felt very conspicuous as he cleared his throat. 

"Ah, Denmark," England said, formally. Scotland took a pull of his pipe and scoffed.

"Enough of that fancy shite. Mathias, are ye gaun tae lay claim on Katie?"

He straightened and was about to reply in the affirmative when one of his naval officers hurried down the steps. At the same time, they all felt it--the unmistakable sensation of speed.

"Sir, there's a Russian vessel ahead," the lad gasped. "I couldn't stop her. She threatened to throw me overboard!"

"Good God," Denmark gasped, as they rushed to the window to look out. "What is she doing?"

"She's gaun tae fuckin ram him," Scotland rumbled, and tore up the stairs with Denmark and England right behind him. "Katie! Stop noo!"

"I'm ramming him," she swore. "Don't you dare stop me!"

"Nae ye ainae! No in Denmark's ship ye ainae! Ye want to cause an international incident? Don't do it here! He has tae share the waters wi the bastard!"

"I'll take responsibility!"

"Yer fuckin right ye would," Scotland growled. "And then I'd be paying fer it, an I cannae afford this. Reduce speed an change yer heading noo, Katie, afore I bash ye upside the heid."

Seething, she did as he said, but just barely in time to avoid what would have been, for Russia, a catastrophic collision. As they passed each other, a clearly angry and terrified Russia shouted out to him.

"What are you doing, crazy Denmark? Have you gone mad?" But then, he caught sight at who was actually glaring at him from the helm, and he went deathly white. The two of them stared at each other in undisguised hatred. Kate pointed at him, then mimed a throat cutting motion, and pointed at him again. He responded by storming below deck again.

Denmark and Scotland stared at each other, then at Kate. The Scot was still rightfully angry with her, but she seemed more annoyed by it than chagrined. Scotland was incensed by this. He apologized to Denmark, and made her do so as well. Later, he suggested that Denmark wait and see how everything blew over before asking him for Katie again. "It'll just be as a formality, a course. I know yis already got tae know each other," he added, glaring at Denmark. "An that'll be enough of that fer a while, innit. Three bloody days...is that any way tae behave, lass?" he bellowed over to Washington, who looked anything but embarrassed. She simply rolled her eyes and continued to have coffee with Norge. 

He kept in touch with her constantly after they sailed for home, and then, about four or five months later he noticed that her next letter took a long time to arrive, and a sneaking suspicion entered his mind. But just to be absolutely certain, he asked Sve for help. Finland had recently traveled to Washington's territory, and had built a home in the southern riverlands off the coast. He had not seen her while he was there, but that was not unusual. So Denmark had his brother travel to British America and see what she was up to. He was gone for nearly three months before he sent word for Denmark to join him because he was right; Washington was going to have a baby. He had left immediately and had arrived in time and had fallen absolutely in love with the little boy child, who had an admirable set of lungs. 

His name was going to be Jens, and she called him Olympus. 

Centuries passed, and his relationship with Washington--Katla, Kate--underwent various periods of intensity, but fundamentally remained the same. He knew that all he would have to do was say, and she would just be his forever, but it was difficult because of the conditions by which America ruled his states. 

But now everything was different.

He didn't like the fact that she was at this very moment nestled in a foxhole with America, their guns trained on the approaching landing craft. He didn't like that he was forced to hold a position far enough away from her that he would be unable to get to her if she were injured. But she had insisted, without asking, and he never had been able to tell her no.


	35. Chapter 35

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song: The Spoils of War Part 1 by Ramin Djawadi

"Move," Russia commanded, jabbing the butt of his rifle into the boy's back. To Russia's surprise, he made the jump into the amphibious lander quite easily. He had expected the child to put up a fuss, but he seemed to be very much at ease around the water. As the craft filled with troops, Russia pushed him forward until they were at the bow. The beach was still very dark, and completely silent. The only visible lights were those of a city about thirty miles south, but Russia wasn't sure which city it could be. Cascadia leaned forward, staring into the morning twilight. "Why did you choose this spot again? Are you stupid?"

"No, you little monster," Russia snapped. "How little you know of these things. We're not the first ones coming ashore. I sent a team ahead, to knock out the main defense and take the town during the night."

Cascadia looked at him over his shoulder, his blue eyes flat. "And you sent them ashore here?"

"Да, I did."

"Bitch, where, like exactly, do you think we are?" 

Russia narrowed his eyes. It seemed like the closer they got to shore, the more difficult the little tyrant's behavior was. And now the kid was calling him 'Bitch'?

Really?

"Just south of here, where those bluffs are," he pointed, "is the approach to Long Beach and Seaview," he said, smugly, and Cascadia rolled his eyes.

"And you sent them in at night?"

"It needed to be dark, you imbecile," Russia barked.

Cascadia gazed out at the shore, then shook his head once. "Oh my fucking God, Mr. Russia, they're fucking dead," he said. "They wouldn't have made it."

"I got a signal from them when they landed!"

"Not from your guys, you didn't," Cascadia insisted. "Are you a complete moron? Don't you know what that spot is? Of course you don't. The last time you were here, it was a million years ago. You idiot, it's not an approach. It doesn't even lead to Long Beach. You're not anywhere near there, Dummkopf. See those lights down there? That's about thirty miles from here. Do you know what that is? That's Astoria, you moron. God damn, you're dumb. And that," he pointed back at the dark gash in the dunes, "goes right into the bay on the other side of those fucking trees, stupid. The tide's out, not in, at night, because it's fucking New Moon. They probably sank in the mud, and then...the bears." He sneered. "I bet your guys up north have gotten stuck in the marshes off Greyland. You don't even want to know what's north of _there_. You really _are_ shit at planning."

Russia had had enough. "You are only the five year old son of the worst creature to walk this earth," he shouted. "How dare you talk to me like that!"

"Bitch, I'm _seventy-_ five," Cascadia retorted. 

"Damn you," Russia hissed. But it was too late to change course now. They were nearly at surf level. Too late, he could see the outlines of the massive guns nestled against the hillside. Before the landing crafts even made the beach, the guns began to roar. A line of violent muzzle flashes appeared in front of them, and the exiting troops began to fall into the shallow water. From the misty shore came the unmistakable ripping sound of Germany's MG-42s. 

"What is this?" He demanded of Lithuania. "There wasn't supposed to be anything south of Greys Harbor! They lied," he shouted. "Somehow she got to them! That infuriating monster!" He would have to punish Oregon for her failure to keep her promises, he knew. Somehow that horrible usurper Washington had gotten to her. He stormed to the hold and flung the heavy doors open. It was time to show this insufferable whore what he was made of, he raged to himself. He would mow down her defenses and then kill her evil offspring, but before he did he would force them to watch him rape their mother. Damn her, giving herself to the devil sons of Germania and Scandia, and bearing them offspring when his mother had taken her to be saved for him. And she had refused to yield. She had let his mother's hard work just crumble. And then, when he had tried to save it, and bring her to glory, she had turned on him. 

She would pay for this.

"Grab him," he bellowed, as he settled onto the back of his great direwolf. "Bring him here. We are going ashore, little hellspawn," he said grimly as Lithuania set Cascadia in front of him. The boy clutched at the thick, shaggy hair, glaring around at Russia. "That's right, demon child. We are going directly into the fire." One of the big guns scored a direct hit on the landing craft to their right, sending severed limbs flying into the air. Didn't matter, Russia thought. He had more men. They were expendable. 

The boy seemed quite unafraid of all the bullets and explosions going off around him, Russia noticed. His wolf's fur was thick, and easily deflected the enemy gunfire. After an agonizing two hours of constant shelling by Germany's batteries, a small group of his men made the beach, and he began scanning the dunes, looking for the red of Washington's hair. In the smoke and haze, he couldn't see it. He did, however, catch sight of her self-important lover, that arrogant Denmark. He was busy cutting down the left flank of the arriving Russian troops, chopping them up with his hateful linoleum-ripper machine gun. Just the fact that her forces were using that particular weapon was enough to make him wish he had retained his nuclear weapons program. 

"Nicholas!"

Russia looked up, and his heart skittered painfully in his chest. On the bluff directly ahead, a gigantic black cat stood, with the sons of Denmark and Germany astride. The larger one, Olympus, shouted again.

"Nicholas, to us!"

Before the boy could even think of moving, Russia's hands tightened around him. "Make one move and I will crush you," he promised. He glared up at the crouching cat and added, " When your whore mother belonged to me I told her she would amount to nothing without me. And I was right. She's noth--"

Suddenly Cascadia stiffened, twisting in his grasp. Russia gasped, releasing him. The boy was on top of him, bearing him back.

"I told you," he screamed, reaching into his coat, "don't..."

His hand closed around something that had looked like a button, but wasn't. 

"...call...my...mother...a whore!" he finished, and brought his hand down in a vicious arc, impaling Russia's thigh, shattering the bone. Scandia's ancient dagger went into his leg to the hilt.

Russia screamed. The boy leapt down, pulling the blade from his leg as he did so, ripping muscle and flesh. He turned and sped up the sand, dodging the outgoing and incoming barrages as if they were in slow motion. Before he reached Tar Baby, he veered off towards someone beckoning him into a foxhole. Russia roared in anger, clutching his badly mangled leg. 

"Toris!" he shouted, and nearly fell from his mount. His wolf shifted beneath him and he cursed in frustration. 

"Russia," Washington's bastard, Columbia, called out. He and his brother were urging the giant cat down the bluff towards him. "Face us, coward. Nicholas is ours."

His wolf snarled, and the cat growled back.

"Kill," it rumbled. Olympus, Denmark's bastard, patted its flank reassuringly. "Patience, Tar Baby." Then he addressed Russia. "Face us, Russia. On the wolf or off, it doesn't make a difference." He and his brother dismounted, dropping on either side of the great cat.

The sky shook with the arriving Thunderbolt, and as it strafed the beach, Russia realized that this was going to be it. The cat was charging him, rearing up and smacking his wolf directly in the face with one well-aimed swat. It had all the power of a firing piston. The direwolf flew into Russia's only remaining ground vehicle, demolishing it and throwing Russia off the animal's back at last. Roaring, his wolf got to its feet, shaking off the impact; the huge beasts squared off as Russia moved to get under cover. The deadly plane had not returned, but the damage had been done. Around him lay the bodies of his men. Some of them had cleared the beach, but he could see that they were trapped by both the terrain and the men defending it. 

And then, to his horror, they swarmed out of the dunes.

Children. 

Children with guns. 

These grim little soldiers rounded up what remaining Russian invaders they could and marched them southward. His men were simply too terrified to fight back, much to his shame. Most of them were covered in long, thin cuts from the dune grass, but the child soldiers didn't seem to be bothered by the grass at all.

The ground shook as the black cat took Russia's direwolf in its jaws and slammed it into the sand. Enraged, the wolf dug in and kicked sand into the cat's face. Screaming, the cat rolled onto its back, shaking his head in fury. 

Russia's direwolf took his chance, seeing the opportunity to get back to his cage in the landing craft. But the cat rolled again, blocking his path and forcing him to leap over. He was still quite stunned from the blow to his head earlier, and misjudged the leap.

As he jumped, Tar Baby rolled onto his back, arching and extending his claws. They caught in the vulnerable skin of the wolf's throat and continued to rip the great beast from throat to tail. Gore and innards spilled out, and the wolf crumpled into a broken pile. Russia stared in disbelief, and then turned to see Washington's little menaces advancing on him, rifles trained on him. 

Even injured, Russia was a fast draw, but he should have remembered that Canada was the one that had taken care of the bastard Columbia and had taught him all he knew about marksmanship. So even before Russia could draw, the boy was firing, striking first his hand and then his opposite shoulder. And oh bloody horror, the cursed child was smiling at him, a horrible deaths head grin. 

"At last, Herr Rus," he called, jovially. "I've been wanting to meet you forever! Although I'm kind of disappointed," he added, as he and his brother forced Russia to put his hands up. Columbia scoffed and struck Russia with the bayonet, but before he could inflict even more damage, an accursed voice called out.

"Jens! Karsten! Take your brother off the beach." With a great effort, Russia tried to take a step and failed. He could hear her, but couldn't see her, the whore. Behind him, his ships were either badly damaged or had already begun to sink. After only three hours, was this really it? 

A soft whistle, somewhere beyond the beach and close to the forest. Kalinka, Kalinka.

Russia did not dare allow himself even the tiniest smile. Columbia struck him one final time, splitting the skin on Russia's cheek, and then he and his brother climbed onto their cat and were gone.

Thunder muttered in the distance, and a sudden cold wind blew in from the ocean. As it began to rain, Russia imagined any chance of success slowly melting away. Damn her, he thought, lowering his head. 

It wasn't over yet, and he was furious. 


	36. Chapter 36

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song: The Spoils of War Part 2

But. Another hour later and an inch and a half of rain, and he knew he was finished. There had been no advancing past the village here, and the forces to the north had not even gotten off the beach. To the south, they had been driven directly into a lethal trap of dead wood and marshland and slaughtered like pigs. His men could not continue, not to the north, where they had been soundly beaten by Prussia, and not to the south, where Germany was in control. Now they were both here, because it was over, and Russia was furious.

It had not gone as he'd hoped and planned at all. They had outclassed and outsmarted him from the beginning, even though he'd come with greater numbers. He had forgotten the most important rule about engaging in warfare and had underestimated his opponent on her home ground. He had also not been very careful about his intel, so had trusted his sources when they claimed she was only supported by a few units of National Guardsmen. But most of all he had not taken into consideration her bastards, including that menacing hellspawn of Prussia's. He had been an absolute fool to let that monster child come ashore with him.

And Toris had betrayed him.

Toris.

They had all tricked him, and he was once again humiliated.

The wind screamed in from the sea, the rain driving in sideways, stinging against his face. This was one of the reasons he had been more than happy to shove her at Scotland in the first place. This schizophrenic weather she liked to cause. Russia looked up, and when he saw who was standing on the bluff his vision went white with rage. She looked down at him, her shoulders heaving with the effort it was taking her to sustain the storm. Russia stared at her and began to tense. He could now clearly see the reason she had wanted to remain hidden from him throughout the fighting: she was pregnant. The same thing that had caused all this disaster in the first place. Bastard children. 

His men, his resources, dangerously depleted, because she just couldn't keep her legs closed. Around him were the splintered remains of his ruined army. His direwolf lay dead in a pool of its own bloody entrails, and his left thighbone was shattered where her little hellspawn had stabbed him. He had two gunshot wounds from the other German bastard son that hadn't seemed serious at first, but they were beginning to bleed heavily. What was next? Was that whoreson of Denmark's going to cleave him in two with an axe?

"You are...a coward," he called up to her. "Why don't you come down here and fight me?" 

She didn't reply, but she turned her head and gazed to the south, where Denmark and Prussia were piling the dead onto pyres. Thunder rumbled and shook the earth. The last of his men surrendered to Germany, and he clenched his teeth.

"You have what you wanted, you ruiner," he shouted. "Come down here! Let us see if you are truly able to bring me down." He smiled. "Let's see if you can protect your sons from me now, without the help of your cat." He hoped it wasn't lurking somewhere nearby. 

"This wasn't about them," she denied even as she rushed down.

"No? Then tell me, little beast, what is it about?"

She closed her eyes and finally drew her arm up, and he finally saw with amusement that she was holding a sword. He could shoot her dead, he knew. She would come back and probably not be any worse for wear, but everyone would see her fall. But he then caught sight of the sword and couldn't move.

It was his mother's sword.

"Forgive me," she murmured, and raised the blade high in the air.

Thunder tore through the sky, and the accompanying bolt of lightning struck the ancient iron.

Russia had just enough time to wonder if she hadn't gone suddenly daft, because she was surely going to be electrocuted, except he had forgotten a critical detail.

She could not be electrocuted by the lightning because she was the lightning. 

He could only register an oddly painless thump that resonated throughout his entire body. He barely felt the blade destroy his breastbone, and he certainly didn't feel the pain of going to his knees, his shattered thigh giving out beneath him. As she pulled the sword from his chest, she came even closer to him, and as she grabbed the front of his shirt, he could not even raise a hand to stop her.

"I want you to know something before I kill you," she whispered, giving him a chilling smile. "I want you to know that it was me."

He opened his mouth to question her, but the blade had nicked a lung, and blood flowed out of his mouth. She began to pull him nearer, and he could only wonder how a pregnant woman could exert this kind of strength. But the killing blow never came. 

"Katrina, don't you dare kill him!"

America.

"I ought to kill you right now," she hissed as she shoved him down. "Fuckin bitchass bastard." She backed off, glaring. As America ran up to them, Tar Baby loped to meet her, Columbia on his back.

"Mutti, kill him!" the boy demanded, drawing a dirk and dismounting. With swift and terrible ease he drove the blade deeply into Russia's hand, impaling him to the ground. "Or I'll do it myself."

America cut him off. "Nobody's killing anyone," he snapped. Germany's son turned to stare him down.

"You are not in charge here," he said, angrily. "My father is."

"Your father," America said back, "is occupied elsewhere. And I'm taking this nation as prisoner."

Washington's mouth twitched. "We are taking no prisoners, Alfred." However, she gazed up at Cascadia, standing with Lithuania, and sighed. "Fine. Take him, damn you. But I'm not going to promise his safety."

Columbia pushed the dagger further into the ground and Russia screamed. Why wasn't America stopping this undue torture? The boy glared at him and spoke through clenched teeth. "No, Mutti! We're not letting him go!"

"No, we aren't," Washington assured him. "Have him taken to MacNeill," she ordered the approaching Guardsmen. "Captain America will be accompanying him for security reasons."

"Katrina," America chided.

"Katla," she corrected him. "My name is Katla, Alfred." 

Kalinka, Kalinka...

As Russia was pulled to his feet, with the dagger removed from his hand, he saw a brief flash of movement from the ancient knot of tree roots that jutted onto the beach. That one small movement told him all he needed to know, and he turned to her with a smile as the shot rang out.

"I win," he said simply, as the bullet smashed into her throat. 

She dropped instantly. 

The only sensation was heat, the only sound the screaming of her sons. America stood stunned, covered in a horrible spray of her blood, staring helplessly as the sand turned bright red around her. He must have screamed, because Germany was there, pulling him back, and his young son was striking Russia hard enough to spray his teeth everywhere. Tar Baby, her black cat, roared in anger and swiped out, knocking Russia to the ground. Tearing into him, biting his neck, breaking the bones. Kate clawed briefly at the huge gaping wound at her throat, unable to speak. Something black and enormous swept down from the sky and bore her away, and America realized that everything had gone completely silent. 


	37. Chapter 37

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> No Exceptions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song: Pensacola by Soul Coughing

The interior of Finland's Deep River house was being kept dark and quiet for now, Finland explained to his son, until Kate regained full consciousness. For the past three days she had been intermittently awake and asleep, so he had traveled with Canada, Germany and Denmark out to New York to deal with stage one of the international fallout from Russia's blatant invasion and their subsequent unauthorized defense. Prussia, as an ex-nation, had chosen to skip the meeting and had stayed behind to take care of the children. After the meeting, Canada, Denmark and Germany had returned to their homes, while America returned to the Pacific Northwest. 

"But she's going to be okay," America insisted, "right?"

"Yes, of course, Alfred," Finland assured him. "Her blood loss was substantial, but not enough to cause her any serious damage. You can go in to see her if you want to."

He did want to. Not only to see for himself that she was still in one piece, but also to tell her why he'd come back. The door to her room was opened a crack, and he could see Tar Baby curled up in the crook of her legs. It was hard to believe that the ordinary-looking cat was the same creature who had battled Russia's direwolf and won. Who had carried the sons of his friends into battle.

Who had torn open Russia's throat and broken his neck, injuries from which said nation was still recovering.

"I'll let you know when dinner is ready," Finland promised as he slipped into the room. He waved a hand and shut the door behind him. The sound roused Tar Baby, who yawned and stretched.

"Mm. What do you want, hero bastard?" he asked. America absently stroked the cat's head and his eyes locked on the two sleeping newborns on Kate's chest. They were only three days old, and he had been terrified that they would never be born after she had been shot. But she, and they, had been just fine. Of course, she had been unable to speak for nearly a month, but Tar Baby had been her voice once again. 

"I need to talk to her," he said quietly. He waited as she stirred, opened her eyes, and noticed him. "Hey there, Kate."

She closed her eyes and shook her head. "Oh my fucking God, not now," she murmured. 

"It has to be now," he informed her. "I'm sorry. I have to tell you that the Joint Commission have reached a decision." He paused. "Are you prepared for this, Kate?"

She sighed and stared at the ceiling. "All right," she said, quietly. Her eyes met his. "Am I to be punished?"

He sat down gently and carefully took her hand. "That decision isn't mine to make anymore," he told her. "But I think, considering the circumstances, that any punishment would be deferred at this time."

"Not your decision to make?" she repeated. "What do you mean? As one of your states, I should answer to you, not the Joint Commission."

He squeezed her fingers, mindful to keep her arm still. The two sleeping infants were baby versions of Denmark and would scream bloody murder if suddenly awakened. "Well, I don't think you understand what has happened," he said, keeping his eyes on hers. "You are no longer a State of the Union." He paused, waiting for her to react, but she didn't. "Look, what you did changed everyone involved. And you saved my citizens from what could have been a catastrophic situation. Maybe you didn't intend to, but you saved my ass even while I was helping you out. Your allies spoke for you as well, and the Joint Chiefs took everything into consideration."

She stared at him. The terms in which he was speaking-- _my_ citizens, _your_ allies--were finally beginning to dawn on her. "What are you saying, Alfred?"

He got up and went to the window to look out. Columbia had hoisted the flag, his own flag, and hers. "Take a look for yourself," he invited. He turned, realizing that she would need assistance; after all, she had just gone through a huge physical trauma and was only now beginning to get her strength up. "Easy." He waited while she adjusted the children and then decided to hand one of them to him. It was going to wake up, he realized, but it was too late to change his mind about it so he was stuck holding a newborn.

"What have you decided to name them?" he wondered. "I wasn't sure if you told anyone yet."

"They are Willamette and Deschutes ," she sighed, "and we named them Søren and Ejnar. What is that?" she exclaimed, gazing out the window. "That's. ...Is that Karsten's?"

"Yeah, Ludwig told me that he'd been working on it secretly for three months," America said. "And you know that other one is yours."

"Why is that flying with Karsten's flag?" she wondered. "Alfred, shouldn't uh, _our_ flag be there?"

He shrugged. "And you said I was clueless. That _is_ your flag. Why would mine be flying here? Do you understand now, Kate? I mean, if you don't, I guess I can't explain it any better than to tell you that you are independent of me now. I mean, not formally yet, but the charter proposal was accepted by the commission for the UN."

Frowning, she turned from the window. "I never proposed anything."

He cleared his throat. "No, well, I might have done it in your stead."

 _"You!_ Why?"

"Because it was obviously necessary."

She looked pained. "Alfred, I'm not sure if that's what I was going for."

"Listen," he began, "it might not have been your main objective here, but you earned it. All these years you've been a huge pain in the ass, not gonna lie, but you've always done your own thing, and done it pretty well, I have to admit. You've got strong trade with other nations and your neighbors. That's a lot more than I can say for some of us. But I'd never have admitted to anyone else it if it hadn't been for Denmark."

"What has he to do with it?"

America looked down at the infant in his arm. The baby boy watched hm with a slightly dubious expression on his face. "Haha, this little guy isn't so sure about me," he chuckled. "Well, he has been my friend since I first became independent from England. He watched me grow up. And he remembered you, so he was all for you becoming your own nation. He first suggested it when you helped Germany get Prussia back from Russia, Kate. That you be allowed independence. I wouldn't have it then, but he never let up on it. I think maybe he had an ulterior motive for it, because I wouldn't let him have a formal partnership between the two of you. But now that you are your own nation, and will have states of your own, you can make any kind of partnership you want."

Now she looked downright ill. "Alfred, I'm not that awesome at diplomacy, you know. I'd sooner pick a fight, than walk away from one."

He gave her a pointed look. "And you're going to have to learn how to walk away sometimes, Kate. You are also going to have to establish relationships with nations that you are not especially fond of. We all have to do it. It's up to you how you want it to go."

The flags snapped in the gusting wind and she looked thoughtful. "So, if this isn't a master prank, then what am I called now? I guess I haven't been Washington since I bumped off Oregon, have I? I guess I'll have to ask the people what they think." She backed away from the window and sat in the chair next to the bed. "This has always been Columbia, so I don't think it will be so difficult for people to get used to that part, but right now I don't know what I would even suggest. For a name."

"Well, you've got a little more time to figure it all out," America said. On the other side of the door, he heard Finland's voice rise in alarm, and Tar Baby stood up, staring at the door. 

The door flew open,banging against the wall and pissing both babies right off. Prussia stood in the doorway, looking grim. "Kate, the boys are gone."

"Gilbert, what the fuck?!" she shouted, as Søren and Ejnar screamed their heads off. Prussia came forward and quickly took both of them up, and to their surprise, the babies calmed right down.

"Sorry, little guys," he said, then looked at Kate. "They climbed out the upstairs window and took off. By the time I realized it, they had already taken the ferry. They left a note," he added. "I don't think you're going to like this, but they've gone out to McNeill." 

In a flash she was getting dressed in riding clothes. America tried to tell her that it was safe to drive again, but she was too busy yelling at Finland to pay attention to him. By the time he finally did get her to listen, she was so mad that she pushed him down and then shouted at him that she'd just wasted all that time getting ready if he expected her to drive.

Finland put a stop to her raving. "Katla, you cannot go out to the prison right now. It will take you too long to get there. Who is going to take care of the little ones while you are away? We cannot feed them. You aren't going to take them with you, either. Stay here," he said firmly, unwinding her from her layers of rain gear. "Alfred, you should get up there. See what is going on."

She slowly began to come to her senses. "Gilbert, they left a note? Are you serious?" She let out a bark of laughter. "It was Jens, wasn't it? Who wrote it?"

He laughed nervously. "Yeah, but they all signed it."

Finland looked concerned. "You don't think that the children are planning to do anything crazy? I'm very familiar with how wild they are when they get together."

"They wouldn't," she insisted. "I'm not worried about that. It's what he could do that worries me."

America and Prussia exchanged a quick look.

"What, damn you?" she demanded. "You all know what he's capable of."

Prussia cleared his throat. "Well, he was, but he's not exactly in top form right now. I mean, he's far from his home and it's not likely that he's going to be set free anytime soon."

She turned away. "I need everyone to fucking clear out," she snapped. Then she added, "except you, Gilbert." 

Finland gave America a pointed look. "You can help me lay the table."

"But--"

Finland's hand closed around his arm. "Now, poikani." He frowned as America kept peering around the door jamb to spy on Prussia and Washington. "Alfred!"

"What are they doing?" America demanded. "What's the big idea? She's touching his face. Does Denmark know she's touching his face?"

Washington--the former Washington, Finland reminded himself--had finally had enough. "Damn it, Alfred! C'mon, Gil, let's go outside so Spymaster can't watch us."

Finland frowned at America. "I'm disappointed in you, pieni. You need to trust in her a little more. Believe me, I know that she is not acting deceitfully to anyone. She will not betray Denmark. I know what they are discussing."

"What?"

But to America's frustration, Finland shook his head. "Let them tell you. I only hope," he added, "that her decision will not end in disaster." He stared out the window at something America couldn't see, but it was obviously something that worried him. "I have a bad feeling about it."


	38. Chapter 38

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Storytime. Russia learns the truth about his mother's death. Lithuania makes a decision.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Song: Babi Yar by Flowers for Bodysnatchers

Russia was no longer sure exactly how much time had passed since the day on the beach, but he knew it had been at least a few months. With each passing day, he was feeling worse and worse, until he feared he might go out like a candle. His only visitors, if you could call them that, were the prison guards tasked with watching over him, and Toris. 

It was not a nice place, this pile of bricks. It was on an island, extremely isolated and unpleasant to travel to and from. For this reason it was entirely self-sufficient, with a hospital and living quarters for the employees, as well as a village with essential businesses. Toris had described it to him.

The traitor. 

Russia didn't think he could forgive him this time. But his visits did ease the psychological shock of being in confinement. He had been imprisoned before, of course. He could've handled it anywhere else. Not here, in her lands.

The damage her cat had inflicted upon him seemed to be permanent to an extent. Though his external wounds had not quite healed, his broken neck had finally knitted together, if not perfectly. His voice had changed, and he was no longer able to use that innocent, teasing tone that everyone had hated so much. Now his voice was scratchy and thick, and he sometimes had to cough to get it to even work. 

He had been wounded before, but never like this. It had not really affected him much when he had incurred injuries at the hands of other nations, because he was just so much stronger than most of them. By this logic Washington should not have been able to hurt him, and her cat definitely shouldn't have been able to break his neck with one bite.

"Privyet, Ivan," Toris greeted. In his hands he held a book. "It's time for our reading group."

Russia glared at him, but Lithuania acted like he didn't even notice. Instead of shutting the cell door, he left it open. Russia looked questioningly towards the guard station. It was deserted. 

Had Toris come to break him out? 

Lithuania regarded him curiously for a moment. "Do you not feel like reading today? I can do it, if your throat hurts."

"No," Russia said, relieved that his voice didn't choke up. "I can read. But, why is the door still open?"

Lithuania glanced over his shoulder. "Oh, the guard said he would be back. He trusts me to be in here. Now where did we leave off?" he added, leafing through the book. "Oh, right. Here we are. Chapter eighteen. I'm sorry," he looked up at Russia. "I couldn't get a Russian book. They aren't allowed here."

Russia nearly dropped his book. "Not allowed? Toris, I know that is not true. This is America, and no language is outlawed here. One of his stupid little freedoms."

Lithuania have him an appraising look. "You really don't know what's going on outside in the world, do you?" he wondered. "That's no surprise. But still, I am surprised that nobody mentioned it. Maybe they don't know yet," he added.

"Damn it, Toris, what are you saying?" Russia demanded, his voice strangling in his throat. He cleared it violently. "Speak plainly. What are you talking about? Did Amerika finally grow a pair and start outlawing things?"

"Not exactly," Lithuania began. "Actually, you aren't really in America now."

"That's ridiculous! I know this is a federal prison," Russia barked. He hacked viciously until the lump was out of his throat. "Are you here to break me out of this cursed place?" 

The guard that had been at the desk suddenly loomed in the doorway. "Thirty-Seven Eight Four," he snapped, "turn and face the wall, hands above your head and flat on the bricks. None of that filth will be spoken here. That is an order."

Russia glared over his shoulder, but the guard, his face completely devoid of emotion, struck him with the butt of his service weapon. Suddenly terrified, he turned back to the wall. This was all wrong, he thought frantically. Amerika had assured him that as long as he was in a federal prison, they had to treat him fairly. 

"Face the wall for ten minutes," the guard said. "Or until I feel like it." The metal taps on his boots were very loud as he strode away. Russia waited nearly a full minute before he dared to speak.

"What is this insanity?" he hissed. "There are laws in America against this sort of thing."

"There are," Toris replied, in English. "But this isn't America now."

Dread pooled in Russia's gut and made him nauseous. "What do you mean?" he whispered. A long shudder ran from his feet to his head. "Toris, get me out of here!"

"Warum sollte er das dann tun?"

Russia gasped. Pain shot through his shoulder and his hands. His left, still bearing the scars from the dagger, spasmed. 

"Mach die Tür zu, Nickolaus. Bleib draußen." Germany's hellspawn bastard came even closer and Russia quickly turned to face him. Toris was nowhere to be seen. Behind Germany's bastard stood the other one, belonging to Denmark. He had a Mosin Nagant trained on Russia's head. Both children no longer looked like innocent civilians. 

"Don't bother to scream," Columbia said, before Russia even opened his mouth. "Nobody will come, and the noise will just make it worse for you." He grinned. "It's a good thing that these cells are soundproof. We wouldn't want our little brother to hear what is going to happen to you."

"Toris!" Russia shouted. His body slammed back against the wall as Olympus shot him in the head. Everything filled with painful, white light, and his shattered head gradually reformed.

"Listen to me, Herr Rus," Columbia said, squatting down beside him. "He's going to do that every time you do something fucking stupid. We really didn't come here to kill you, though. We just want to tell you a story. It is your storytime, oder?"

Russia tried to lift his head out of the pool of blood. The boy frowned and shook his head.

"Don't bother, because he's probably going to do it again soon. I think you'll only have like seven resets before you just stop forming a new head. Then if he blows the back of your head off you'll just be missing that part." Columbia smiled again, and oh Christ it was terrifying, such a jovial expression on the boy's face--except for his eyes. Russia had seen those very eyes with that very expression eighty years ago. "Now it's storytime. Who wants to begin? Mr. Toris? How about you?"

"Certainly," Lithuania stepped out of the corner where he had been waiting just out of sight. "Once there was a little girl, and she was a special little thing. She was one of the land personifications. Oh, land personifications are very rare," Lithuania added, widening his eyes. "So they are much sought after, because they are stronger than the ordinary citizen-centric personifications. But these also must be handled with care, because they are different."

"Yes," Olympus went on. "Personifications like you, or Mr Toris here, are linked to the people who live in your land. And you are born of mother and father nations, but not always one of each, and not like humans are born. If your people suffer, then you suffer--and vice versa. I didn't know all this," he added, "until my parents had my little brothers a few days ago. Because they were born like humans, even though we aren't. I guess we all were, because of mor and who she is."

"Yes, that's right," Lithuania said. "Well, this little girl was discovered long ago by the ancient Scandia. He loved her, and she loved him. He called her Snow White because her hair was as white as snow. In his language there is a name that means 'pure', like the snow, and he gave her that name. She accepted him and he began to settle her lands.

"He had sons of his own, you see, and he had been looking for a bride for his oldest, so that he would grow their bloodline and become powerful. But he also wanted his heir to be happy, and he knew this little one was perfect for his son, so he promised them to each other. He brought his sons to the new land, and she was waiting. She could already speak their language, so she was able to talk to the little nations. One of them was a land personification, just like her. And the moment they saw each other, that was it."

"Oh," Olympus interrupted. "Sorry, Mr Toris, but I forgot to mention one thing about land personifications. Since they exist before people come to them, they're not bound to their citizens and they don't suffer their problems. They also have a tendency to hurt the people who live in their lands. You might be familiar with this, Herr Rus. You've seen it before."

Columbia exchanged a look with his brother. "I think he's starting to understand what we're talking about. But maybe not. Part two!"

Russia finally turned his head to glare at the boys. "You are not scaring me," he began. Once again his head exploded. 

"That's twice," Olympus warned as Russia's skull knitted itself together again. "Look, we aren't trying to scare you, stupid. We're telling you about something important."

"Part two," Columbia repeated. 

"Scandia had two brothers and a sister. His sister was wicked and selfish and she was completely incapable of doing anything right, so her brothers all felt sorry for her. She managed to talk Scandia into taking her along the next time he went to see Snow White," Lithuania continued. "And she brought her horrible offspring with her. Once they came ashore and he met with his little treasure, his awful sister knifed him in the back." Lithuania's eyes flashed. "And she grabbed that poor little girl who screamed and screamed for him to save her, but the ogre's children held him down at knifepoint. Oh, he could have gotten away from them, but the thieving monstrosity threatened to kill the little one if he tried anything. His heart broke into a million pieces. He could do nothing. And so they lost each other."

Columbia watched Russia with narrowed eyes. "At least, so it would seem. You see, despite her best efforts--"

"Which were total shit, by the way," Olympus added.

"She couldn't control the little one. And she tried all sorts of violence to get her under control. Hangings, burnings, drowning--nothing worked. She even slaughtered all the settlers who had first come, well, their descendants. She wanted her own son to have Snow White, you see. But Snow White wasn't having any of that. And she started to make the settlement very miserable for the new rulers. Oh, she was punished for it, of course, but those punishments were nothing to her. Until."

"The ogre had found out that there was another," Lithuania continued. "One who was not as difficult to control. And when the little one realized that the ogre wanted to take the other for herself, she knew she had to stop it. They were sisters, you see. And her sister was shining and golden and innocent, and would not have been able to endure the cruelty the ogre would inflict upon her. So the little one did the only thing she could." 

"She destroyed the scouting party the ogre had sent," Olympus took up the tale. "When the ogre realized what had happened, she took her sword and nearly decapitated the little one. Left her with her head barely attached as punishment. The little one was only trying to keep her sister safe, you see. And this was her punishment. Luckily for her, her brother found her and took her somewhere to heal. And while she healed, her spirit animal found her."

Russia tried to swallow and couldn't. His throat tightened, and the fresh scars at the front stung.

"Her spirit animal had been watching over her the whole time," Lithuania sighed. "And he knew many secrets. One of those secrets involved the ogre. You see, she was physically very weak and wore armor to compensate. But she didn't sleep wearing the armor, and he told the little one. As soon as she was healed, she went to the ogre's home..."

"Land personifications are also dangerous because they don't care about fair treatment," Columbia said. "The smallest infraction can set them off. Well, this was no small thing. She went in there and yanked that bitch out of bed and killed her right then. Punched a hole in her chest and ripped her beating heart out and ate it."

"That didn't kill her right away," Lithuania added. "The little one took the very sword that had been used on her, and she cut the monster's head off. There was an earthquake and landslide that killed everything in the settlement. And when the dust cleared, Snow White had become blood red."

"You lie," Russia began. Olympus sighed regretfully and fired. Once again he found himself lying in his own shattered mess. 

"It's the truth," Lithuania said. "She killed the ogre. Then she waited for the son. And he came right along."

"Nobody lived who could have told you the truth about what happened to your mother," Olympus said. "The story was that it was the landslide, because of the mess, but it wasn't true. Our _mother_ , Herr Rus. Our mother was the one. And then she waited for you. All the years she spent killing off your settlers and it never dawned on you that she was dangerous until she drowned your sister."

"She had been promised by Scandia to Denmark," Lithuania told him. "Your mother stole her from them and tried to keep her for you. And she hated you for it."

The lock on the door to the cell popped. Olympus lowered the rifle as the door opened and America came in. He saw the blood everywhere and winced.

"Your mother wants you home now," he announced. Olympus looked at Columbia, who got to his feet reluctantly. America gestured to them. "Out you go." 

Olympus emptied the chamber. "Looks like storytime is over, asshole," he remarked. "Hey, thanks for helping out, Mr. Toris. Can he come back to our house with us, Alfred?"

"Alfredka! You have to get me out of this hell," Russia choked out. "It is worse than anything you said."

America shook his head once. "I can't do it, Ivan," he said regretfully. "This is not my jurisdiction."

"What do you mean? It is a federal prison," Russia exclaimed. 

"Ah, you see...about that," America began. "It was a federal prison when this was the State of Washington. But, uh...it isn't anymore." He seemed to sense the children lurking just outside the door. "Go on out to the gate, kids. Sweden is here and he's waiting in the car." He turned Lithuania. "Did you want to come over? Kate wants to thank you for helping to save Nicholas."

"Toris, if you go with them you are no longer my son!" Russia hissed.

Lithuania was suddenly moving towards him with a rage that seemed to come from out of nowhere. "I was never your son," he said coldly. He gripped Russia's jaw in one hand and squeezed. "I am going. And I won't be back. " He let go, allowing Russia to stumble back against the wall. "Rot in hell." He began to follow America out the door, but then paused. "Oh. One more thing." He turned back to face Russia and leaned towards him. "Fuck you."

With that, he brought his arm around in a tight arc, slashing deeply into Russia's chest, through the damaged bone. Before America could react, he had plunged his hand into the hole and torn out the still-beating heart. Russia tried to scream, but his damaged vocal cords locked. Instead of consuming it, Lithuania crushed the heart in his hand and the last thing Russia saw was the flash of the bloodied blade as it slashed towards his neck.


	39. Chapter 39

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There may be trouble brewing.

"So, little dude," America began, as they filed out of the airport terminal, "is this your first time in New York?"

"No," Cascadia was a little preoccupied with Tar Baby, who was struggling to escape his carrier. "We were here last month when Mama talked with uh, Bosnia. Can we let him out? He can walk on a leash."

America sighed. "Fine. Where is your mother? She said she'd be here to meet us."

Bringing up the rear, the two older boys each carried one of the twins. "She just texted," Columbia said. "She said she'd be here in ten minutes. Something about...what was it again, Bruder?" He looked over at Jens. 

Olympus smirked. "Red tape. She's with Onkel Gilbert I think."

Confused, America looked around. "What...what? Why would she be with _him?_ I thought she was here to accept her spot in the United Nations...what the hell can she be up to?"

Suddenly Columbia began to laugh harshly. "What are you on about, America? She _told_ you. She already has accepted her seat. You were there. There was a huge party that we weren't allowed to attend because of our age, so Herr Rus had to watch us. Remember?" 

Jens shook his head. "Better lay off the dope there, huh Onkel Alfred?"

"You're going to regret allowing her to be independent," the aforementioned Herr Rus called, finally catching up with them. The former Russian Federation glared at Columbia venomously. "She's already up to no good."

"Cut it out, дедушка," Cascadia said, rolling his eyes. "She's been nothing but nice to you. She even said that you could live in Seattle."

"I _want_ to be home in St Petersburg!"

"Nobody cares where you want to be," Columbia sneered. "You're here until our mother says."

America smiled apologetically at the humbled Russia. "The little one is right, you know. She _has_ been nicer to you since you were released from prison."

Russia scowled. "It doesn't matter. She is still monster!"

"Shut up," Columbia hissed.

"Stop talking shit about her, asshole," Olympus said. "She did you a fucking favor by not killing you, though I have yet to see how anyone else benefits from it." The toddler in his arms struggled to get free, so he set the boy down and held his hand. The child immediately went after Tar Baby's tail. Unfortunately for both Russia and Tar Baby, the tallest thing was Russia, so there was nothing else the cat could do but run up onto Russia's shoulder. He flinched, but Tar Baby was careful to be as gentle as possible.

"Don't worry, oh fallen one," the cat purred. "Lucky for you, I promised my slave that I would be nice to you. She made me do it," he added, much to Russia's surprise.

"C'mon, дедушка," Cascadia said, slipping his hand into Russia's as if they were great pals. "It's okay. She said she has a surprise for everyone. Maybe you'll be pardoned!"

For some reason Russia found the boy's touch to be comforting, rather than repulsive. Perhaps the little one was right. It was possible, now that the horrible monster had a seat in the U.N., that she had the authority to put forward a pardon in his case. Stranger things had happened. He had not expected her to even allow his release, but she had come to the prison herself and had actually spoken to him with civility. He was forced to live with her, but she was so busy with the consequences of being a new nation that she was rarely at home.

America frowned, taking off his glasses and staring intently at something in the distance. "There she is. What the hell is she up to? Tar Baby..." He paused, waiting for a line of Japanese tourists to go past before addressing the cat. "Did she tell you anything?"

Tar Baby smirked. "Just that you are all in for a major fucking surprise," he said. "Look, I'm not telling you anything else. Just know that she's been planning it since she found out you supported her." He stretched and stood on Russia's shoulder as Washington and Prussia approached them. "Hey jerk," he said to the Teutonic Prussia.

Cascadia laughed. "Mein Vati is not a jerk, Tar Baby. You know that you're the real jerk here."

Washington and Russia glared at each other for a moment before she relented and took her cat from his shoulder. "Gimme you, Tar Baby. You know better than to bother him."

"I wasn't--"

She clamped her hand over Tar Baby's mouth as more people streamed by. "Thank you for bringing everyone, Alfred." She glanced up at Russia and added, "And I appreciate your cooperation, папа."

Gleefully, Cascadia tugged on Russia's hand. "See? I told you!"

Washington's other sons were not as thrilled. "Don't think that just because she called you her papa she's going to do the worst thing possible and pardon you," Columbia said, earning a cuff to the ear from his mother. He looked around at her in surprise. "Ow!"

"Be more compassionate!" she said from between clenched teeth. "If I can learn to do it then so will you."

Columbia lowered his head in submission. "Yes, Mutti," he said, but when she took her place ahead of him, he looked over at Russia again. "I hate you," he mouthed.

Russia sighed. Sometimes he wished Lithuania had actually finished him off, but unfortunately America had stopped him before he could actually decapitate him. Now Russia had a scar similar to his hated дочь.

This was going to be a long three days.


End file.
